Bob Fraser's Mystery Girl
by RobinLady-in-Waiting
Summary: When a package arrives at the consulate for Fraser, he feels compelled to learn the answers to questions his father's ghost refuses to answer with help from someone he didn't expect. Please read and review with kindness as I try to do the same. TYK
1. Chapter 1

_**There is little less trouble in governing a private family than a whole kingdom. ~ Montaigne**_

Bob Fraser stood looking over Benton's shoulder. He'd been peering at his son's typewriter for the last twenty minutes.

"You misspelled 'convenience', Benton." The younger Mountie stopped his ninety words per minute clatter to study his typing.

"I did not, Dad." Ben turned to look up at the ghost.

"Living this far south, around these Americans, you've lost IQ points." The elder Fraser groused, waving his son's annoyance away.

"Haven't you got someone else to watch, Dad?" Ben leaned back in his desk chair, smoothing an eyebrow with his thumbnail.

"You're the only one who can see me, remember." Bob threw his hands up.

"Maggie can see you." Benton responded tersely.

"I don't know why I'm here, I just appear and disappear as needed." The old man shrugged. A knock on the door interrupted Ben's next remark.

"Come in, Turnbull." The senior Mountie sighed as he looked to his father to be silent. The lanky, junior Mountie opened the door and stepped inside. He'd heard his superior officer's voice through the door. Turnbull heard him often, talking to himself or Diefenbaker.

"Good afternoon, Sir. Here's your mail." The blond Mountie smiled broadly, his chipper manner sometimes annoying to no end.

"Thank you kindly, Turnbull." Ben took the two, business sized letters and one, large, manilla envelope from him. The manilla envelope had various kinds of stamps and postage on it. The address was written in a spidery hand.

"Oh, this looks interesting." Ben pulled his letter opener from the top desk drawer and slid it beneath the flap. With a swift, upward motion the Mountie opened the thick envelope. The top, left hand corner had only an address somewhere in the United States and a first name but the ink had been smudged beyond reading. Too much postage had been affixed on the top, right hand corner. In the center of the crinkled envelope it was addressed to Robert Fraser RCMP c/o Constable Benton Fraser, Canadian Consulate- Chicago, Illinois and the zip code. 'Fragile' and 'Handle with Care' were hand written on the bottom margins. Ben wondered that the thing had arrived at all with such an address. An odd, very old air settled around the envelope.

"What's this here?" Bob Fraser leaned in to see what slid out of the envelope. Ben let the contents fall out onto the desk. There were black and white photographs, letters tied with silk ribbon, a leather bound diary, a lock of reddish-brown hair, polished river stones and an unaddressed, sealed envelope. Ben collected the photos first. He sorted through them. Without looking at his father, the Mountie tried to identify the people in the photos. Ben saw a very young Buck Frobisher, Bob's former partner, Gerard and his own father. They were younger than Ben was as he looked at them. He then came across a snapshot of twenty-something Bob Fraser with a smiling, young woman who wasn't Caroline, Ben's mother.

"Dad, who's this?" Ben turned to look at his father. He seemed smaller somehow and pale, if a ghost could go pale. The older Mountie's expression took his son by surprise. He hadn't seen Bob Fraser aghast since his mother's death.

"My word, I haven't seen her in over forty years." Bob studied the worn image a moment, his light eyes drifting back to scenes only he could see. The young woman's smiling face and light eyes looked back at him. She was as beautiful as Elizabeth Taylor ever thought of being, with a slimmer, longer figure beneath a sweater and pencil skirt. Pearls lay against her porcelain skin. The young woman's arm was securely hooked around the young Mountie's as they posed for the camera on someone's front porch. Young Bob Fraser smiled broadly, his free hand laid over the young lady's. Ben noticed the ring on her left hand, a diamond glistening in the sunlight.

"Who is she, Dad, I've never seen her before." Ben asked again.

"That, Son, is Veronica. A girl I knew a long time ago." Bob Fraser's eyes glistened a little as he tried to touch the photograph. His fingers melted right through.

"You knew her before you met my mother?" Ben tried to establish a time line in his mind, taking into account his birthday and his parents' wedding date.

"It was years ago, Son, it's best left alone." The old Mountie's voice crackled with emotion. Ben sat back, eyes wide. His father had never spoken so harshly to him unless it was an emergency. The living Mountie flipped the photograph over. Written in that spidery hand was a date.

"This is dated one month before you and Mother married." Ben showed him the neatly written date.

"She and I knew each other years ago, Benton, leave it alone." Bob Fraser turned away from his son, his hands behind his back. Ben looked down to Diefenbaker, his half wolf friend. The wolf wasn't convinced and neither was Ben.

"What aren't you telling me, what happened between you and this woman?" The younger Mountie joined his father near the window.

"It's none of your business." Bob Fraser walked toward the closet door, walking straight through it and into where ever it was he went when he wasn't with Benton.

_**July 4, 1959**_

_Dear Veronica,_

_ It's finally dark out. My body wants to sleep but my mind races with thoughts of you and that kiss beneath those ancient pines. I never suspected you felt that way toward me. That walk along the village, the smell of pine, I'll never forget it as long as I live. _

_ Yours always, Robert_

Ben read the first letter twice. He'd never heard of his father or his grandparents mentioning a Veronica before. The letter was dated the summer before his parents' wedding. He knew it was his father's handwriting, he'd read his journals often enough.

Ray Kowalski knocked on the consulate office's door loudly, wondering why his Canadian friend hadn't answered yet. With a sigh, he hollered, "Hey, Bennie, you in there or what?" The replacement detective's voice carried through the old door, as well as through every door along the hallway.

Ben threw the door open, nearly sucking Ray inside. "Hello, Ray, sorry I didn't answer sooner, I've been preoccupied." The detective shrugged as he walked inside.

"We had plans to watch the hockey game, remember?" Ray reminded him incredulously. He had begun to think something was wrong when the contentious Mountie hadn't arrived at the apartment at eight o'clock.

"That was tonight?" Ben asked innocently. Ray nodded, his light eyes surveying the office. As usual, it was dark and quiet. The only light on in the office was the desk lamp, illuminating a small circle around Ben's desk blotter.

"It completely slipped my mind, Ray, let me get my hat." The Mountie whirled around, to retrieve his Stetson and his leather jacket.

"What's got you so preoccupied, Fraser, you'd be half an hour early to your own execution." Ray leaned against the door jamb.

"I was reading through some letters I received today." Ben answered as he walked out of the office.

"Must have been some hot stuff, I knocked on the door a dozen times." Ray shuffled out into the hallway as Fraser waited on Diefenbaker to follow him out. The wolf loved going to Ray's. There would be pizza and popcorn.

"It's interesting reading, if that's what you mean." Ben thought back to his father's reaction to that one picture. He made a mental note to call Buck Frobisher the next day.

"Oh yeah, what was it?" Ray's eye brows shot up.

"The envelope didn't have a return address, but the sender knew my father in his youth. It's a woman, I believe."

"I take it this woman isn't your mother then?" The scrawny detective's interest had been piqued. Ben's past was something he didn't talk about much. All Ray knew was the surface stuff, even after over a year of seeing each other every day.

"No, she isn't. I'm still trying to figure out who she was to my father." Ben wondered as he walked to Ray's GTO. The classic, American muscle car gleamed in the evening light.

"Sounds like you've got a mystery to solve, Buddy." Ray grinned as he slid behind the wheel.

"So I do, Ray, so I do." The Mountie agreed.


	2. Chapter 2 The Challenge

Bob Fraser paced the small office, his hands behind his back. His uniform collar felt tight around his neck. Why, he didn't know, he was dead and didn't feel anything. It still felt like it was creeping tighter around his throat.

"Why isn't he here yet, it's five o'clock, he should have been here by now." The elder Fraser looked out at the faint pink lining the building's outlines as he looked out the window.

"Dad, I wasn't expecting you." Ben spoke after closing the door behind him.

"Ah, Ben, good morning." The old Mountie cast about for something to say to his son. He could tell that Ben wanted know more about Veronica. There were things Bob Fraser wasn't ready to share yet. Veronica was at the top of the list.

"Good morning." Ben flung his hat on the rack and set down with his coffee and oatmeal.

"How did you sleep?" Bob Fraser looked at the oatmeal and frowned. He'd forgotten what the concoction tasted like.

"I slept well, thank you." The younger Mountie sipped his coffee, eying his father who seemed nervous. "You aren't going to tell me about her are you, Dad?"

Bob Fraser turned on his boot heel and stared at his son. Their eyes locked a moment before the elder Mountie looked at his boots.

"No, I'm not, Benton." The words came out softly but resolutely. Ben simply nodded. If he was going to find out about this Veronica he was going to do it without his father's help. He picked up the phone and began dialing.

"Is Sergeant Frobisher in yet, please?" Ben stared at his father's back side where he'd turned to stare out the window. It was a raw, cold day out. "Thank you kindly, I'll call back then." Fraser hung up the phone as he perched on the corner of his desk.

"He won't tell you anything, Benton, Buck doesn't know anything to tell you." The elder Mountie didn't turn around. He didn't have to, Bob Fraser knew the look on his son's face. It was a look of annoyance and sadness. They knew so little of each other, even still. Bob Fraser's journals had filled in a lot of gaps, but they weren't like getting to know the man first hand.

"Sergeant Frobisher will point me in the right direction." Benton took his father's challenge.

"It that's the way you want it, Son." Bob Fraser walked toward the closet, his hands still behind his back.

Ben sat down at his desk and pulled out a new legal pad and the envelope's contents. With his usual, purposeful manner, he set about cataloging the items;

* 7 black and white photographs

1 of Veronica and a young Bob Fraser

2 of Bob Fraser and Buck Frobisher

1 of Buck standing alone

2 of Bob, Buck and Post Personnel

1 landscape shot

* Letters tied with blue silk ribbon

18 Addressed to Bob Fraser

5 of those marked 'Return to Sender'

12 Addressed to Veronica

* 1 Leather bound diary

* 1 Lock of reddish-brown hair

* 5 polished river stones

* Sealed, unaddressed envelope

Turning the page, Ben numbered it and opened the unaddressed envelope. The spidery scrawl had gotten worse since the first letter he'd pulled out of the silk ribbon. Written on a single, heavy piece of stationary, the letter writer had used a modern, ball point ink pen instead of a fountain pen. It was easy to tell that it was the same hand though. The capital letters hadn't changed, nor the slant of the long letters. Ben compared the writing to the envelope's address. He took a deep breath before reading the letter.

_Dear Robert,_

_ I hope this letter finds you and Caroline well and happy. It has been a great many years since we have set eyes on each other. I remember you and our time together fondly and often. Buck, you and I were the best of friends that long, lovely summer. I wish I had the strength to go back that far north. I had hoped to live longer than these sixty-two years but this bone cancer is in it's final stage. In the last few months I have had to tell my daughter about my life before her birth. It hasn't been easy. Bernadette didn't take it well when I told her I still love you and that I wasn't certain if you were her father or my husband, Alfred. I never meant to hurt anyone, but like the old saying goes, 'The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.' _

_ I heard a few years ago that you and Caroline had had a son, Benton. Any son of yours must be a wonderful, young man. They tell me he's as much a legendary RCMP officer as you were. You and Caroline must be so proud. I hope the three of you have it in your hearts to forgive me my failings. _

_ Now I leave you, as always, with my love. _

_ XOXO Veronica _

Ben nearly fell out of his chair. Another sister. He re-read the letter but there was no mistaking the woman's words. "Dad," Ben growled as he flung open the closet door. On the other side of the door he stepped into the log cabin his father favored. A fire burnt in the stone hearth as the old man set with his feet extended toward the flames. Bob Fraser wore a flannel shirt beneath a sweater, looking very much like a retired librarian.

"Come in, Son, have a seat." The old Mountie hitched his thumb to an armchair beside him without looking back at Ben.

"What is this all about? I may have another half sister?" To say that Ben was incredulous would be putting it mildly. He showed his father the letter as he took a seat in the armchair. He could smell the wood smoke and the scent of pine.

Bob Fraser took the letter and scanned it. "No one told her that Caroline died so soon after that." He shook his head. "And she outlived me, but not by much." The old Mountie sighed and handed the letter back. "Bone cancer is a painful way to go." His eyes stared into the flames beyond his feet.

"Dad, this woman was married and the two of you were carrying on?" Ben pointed out. The old man's eyes flashed angrily at him.

"As I've said before, it was none of your business. You weren't there to understand that summer." Bob Fraser's voice was as sharp as a knife blade.

"Heavens to Betsy, Dad, did you ever keep it in your pants?" Ben stood up, his face as red as his uniform. Bob Fraser rose too, his dander up.

"I did nothing to be ashamed of. Before you start criticizing my actions think back on your own." It had been a while since Ben had been reminded of Victoria, his own albatross. Still mad, the younger Mountie left the cabin/closet, letter in hand.

_**A few hours later … **_

"Constable Fraser, you have a phone call. It's Sergeant Frobisher." Turnbull's voice came across the phone line clearly and cheerfully. Fraser wouldn't have been surprised if the junior Mountie put a call through from the Devil himself with the same cheerfulness.

"Thank you, Turnbull, put him on." Ben set back in his desk chair. He'd been both dreading and looking forward to talking to his father's oldest friend.

"Benton, hello." Buck's familiar voice calmed Ben's nerves a bit.

"Sergeant Frobisher, hello." Ben hesitated. "I received a very strange package in the mail yesterday, from a Veronica. Inside were pictures of you and my father and the young woman. I'm still sorting out some of the other contents." Ben heard the tired sigh on the other end.

"Veronica you say?" Ben confirmed the name, waiting anxiously for more information. "That's been a long, long time ago, Benton. Perhaps it would be best to leave the past in the past." The other old Mountie dodged telling him.

"I know that this woman and my father were close enough that her daughter's paternity is in question, Sergeant Frobisher." Ben dropped the bomb shell.

"Ah-ha, I see. I thought as much." Buck spoke with a tight clip to his words. The younger Mountie waited for more. A tap at the door distracted Ben. Before he could say anything the door swung open.

"Constable Fraser, we had a meeting ten minutes ago." Inspector Meg Thatcher halted suddenly when she saw that he was on the phone. Despite being on the phone, Ben stood to attention.

"I'll talk to you later, Sergeant Frobisher." Fraser hung the heavy handset up and slid his hand behind his back.

"Why were you talking to Sergeant Frobisher, Constable?" Thatcher inquired, her dark eyes held fast on the handsome man before her. Looking at him with suspicion was a lot harder than the smile she actually wanted to let loose with.

"It's rather complicated, Sir. It was in regards to a package I received yesterday." Ben shifted his weight to one foot as she continued to gaze up at him.

"Well, we were to have a staff meeting ten minutes ago. I expect to hear the reason for such a long distance call as soon we conclude." Meg turned on her heel and left the office. Ben let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Something about that woman gave him butterflies.


	3. Chapter 3 Veronica's Arrival

_**May 15, 1959 **_

Veronica had sat in the seat for far too long. She looked forward to getting out and seeing something of Canada for herself. Her uncle Luke always smelled of fresh air and faintly of pine when he visited in the summer every so often.

"Next stop, Spencer Falls." The train conductor's voice cut through Veronica's thoughts. She sat up straighter, adjusting her gloves and hat. The young woman's stomach growled. Lunch had been served three hours before. The time difference had made it more like a second breakfast for her. People waited on the platform, their faces expectant to either see someone or to see their destination. There weren't many, maybe twenty, but Veronica saw the young officer waiting to collect her immediately. He stood tall, wearing the red serge, dress uniform.

As the train came to a complete stop the train conductor helped ladies and children off the steps onto the platform. The officer stepped forward to help her with her luggage. She smiled warmly, trying to banish her sudden shyness.

"Hello, I'm Constable Robert Fraser, your uncle Fitzgerald sent me to escort you to the post, Miss." He grabbed the two, large suitcases, leaving Veronica with only her hand bag and the smallest case.

"Pleased to meet you, Constable. How do you know I'm the right person to pick up?" She frowned at him, confused.

"He showed me your family picture, Miss."

"Oh," Veronica bit her lip. Quickly, the young officer led her through the crowded platform, the smell of coal dust hanging in the air as the train waited to pull out again. Beyond the depot was the village attached to the post. People moved around the mud streets, talking, laughing, living life in general. They seemed so much happier than people in Chicago.

"I'm afraid the ride to the post is bumpy, Miss, you might want to cover your dress with the emergency blanket in the back. Some of the pot holes are real ponds." He set her luggage in the back seat floorboard of a rough Jeep. Looking around, she saw that most women wore rubber gardening boots or some wore men's boots. Veronica hadn't thought much about footwear when she'd packed her things over a week ago.

"Thank you, Constable Fraser, I will." She reached for a scratchy, wool blanket behind the backseat. Draping it over her lavender dress skirt, the young woman tucked it under her thigh. She'd bought the dress especially for traveling.

"I'll take it as easy as I can, Miss Fitzgerald." Constable Fraser took a back street toward the post, pointing out important spots along the way, the general store being the most important.

Veronica was glad to get out of the Jeep after the few short miles she'd ridden to the post. Despite the blanket, she still managed to get mud on her dress sleeve from the ankle deep mud holes they crossed.

"This is Fitzgerald's office, I'll take your luggage on to the house, Miss." Constable Fraser helped her out of the Jeep, lifting her easily over the mud hole he'd parked next to and setting her down on the ground again. A thrill shot through Veronica's body like she'd never felt. It was such a chivalrous act on his part, and not a bit forward. Before she could turn around again Constable Fraser had hopped back into the vehicle and eased it into the driveway across the way from the office. A two story house sat behind a white fence. Sunny, yellow curtains hung in the front windows upstairs. White curtains fluttered in the windows on the first floor. Veronica noted how cheerful the place seemed.

"Veronica, good to see you. How was your trip?" Luke Fitzgerald's deep voice boomed from behind the young woman.

"Uncle Luke, hello. My trip was fine. Where's Aunt Edna?" She was once again lifted off the ground but this time it was in a hug. Luke had always swept her up like that. He was a mountain of a man, over six feet tall with hands as big as Veronica's feet.

"She's been waiting for you, I think she's baking cookies right now." He pointed toward the house. As if on cue, Edna appeared in the doorway, waving with one hand and tucking loose strands of hair back into her bun with the other.

"Oh, Aunt Edna, good to see you." The pair met half-way across the dirt path. Veronica embraced the tall, lean woman, her body once again squeezed in a bear hug.

__"You must be tired. I've made up Landon's room for you and your bags are already up there." Edna ushered the girl into the house and set her down on the sofa beside a pot of tea. Veronica caught herself yawning as she waited on her aunt to brink in oatmeal raisin cookies from the kitchen. It had been quite a day. All she wanted to do was change and write the day's events in her journal before an afternoon nap.

_**At the Consulate … **_

Inspector Thatcher gave Fraser a knowing look after the meeting, telling him silently to stay after Turnbull had left. She kept silent until the door had closed behind the junior Mountie.

"Now, what was that about a package you received, Constable Fraser?" Meg didn't really care what he'd gotten in the mail. She was happy just to have him in her office-alone.

"Inspector Thatcher, it's a personal matter." Ben began, immediately recognizing that it wouldn't satisfy her.

"Constable, you do not rise to my rank without discretion." She straightened her suit jacket and gave him a small smile.

"A woman my father knew early in his career sent me a package of letters, photographs and a journal, among other things. Inside was a letter to my father. I may or may not have another half sister, Sir." Ben smoothed his eyebrow with his thumbnail, a sure sign of annoyance.

"I see, discretion is a must here." Meg felt like a heel for making him tell her. "Is there anything you need, Constable?"

"I'm not certain, Inspector. I haven't had time to read through the letters just yet." Ben leaned back in the stiff chair.

"Perhaps I could help you read them, I have an objective eye for detail. It may be helpful." Meg tried to sound as professional as possible. Inside she was dying to know more about Fraser and his family.

Ben pondered her offer for a moment. The only other person he had to turn to was Ray Kowalski, and his flippant responses just didn't suit the Mountie's raw mood. A woman's eye was just what Ben needed.

"Yes, thank you, Inspector." Ben took his leave of Meg. He returned in a few minutes, securing the door behind him to deter Turnbull's eavesdropping. Meg cleared her desk and allowed Fraser to empty the envelope's contents.

"I've previously read these two letters." Ben set them aside. Meg pulled them right back into the stack.

"For perspective's sake." She explained, gazing up at him. Ben nodded, going along with her reasoning.

"I'll take the journal, then." Ben pulled a chair up to her desk and opened the soft, leather bound volume. It had a pleasantly earthy smell about it. The first entry spoke of her graduation from college and how she dreaded settling down with her fiance. It was certainly a different world after the Korean War. Ben noted the post commander's name, Luke Fitzgerald. It would narrow down the search for more clues about where Veronica had been for the last forty years.

"This Veronica was an American on holiday in Canada." Meg spoke, her tone somewhere between a statement and a question.

"Yes, it appears so." Ben handed her the legal pad to make notations. Meg wondered how much similarity there was between Ben and his father. She looked forward to learning the answer.

The two read through the letters for the next few hours. For Ben it was a window into his father's early life. Meg glanced at him from time to time as they sat only a couple meters apart but completely silent. His face was expressive, sometimes deeply confused, other times a smile pulled at his lips. Meg wished she could read his mind. They had both made several notations on the legal pad, names, places, and dates. The inspector wondered what Benton would do with the information.

"There aren't many clues to Veronica's identity in these letters." Meg leaned back, massaging the bridge of her nose. She'd been reading too long without her prescription eye glasses.

"The journal isn't much better." Ben leaned back too. For a moment he met his boss' gaze. She looked away first.

"Do you think Sergeant Frobisher will tell you anything more about her?" Meg looked at the legal pad, hoping for inspiration.

"He seemed reluctant to discuss my father and this woman, Veronica." Fraser's jaw worked a bit. He wondered what was so off-limits that his father and Buck Frobisher wouldn't talk about it.

"There's something we haven't seen yet." Meg sighed. She almost pulled her glasses out of the top drawer and set them on her nose. Her fingers danced on her desktop as she squashed the urge to retreive them.

"Perhaps if we continue reading." Ben suggested. Meg gave him a doubtful smile and picked up another letter.

"Why does this bother you so much, Fraser?" Meg asked, her voice soft, concerned. He looked up at her, surprised.

"It's one more thing my father didn't tell me."

Meg started to ask a more probing question but thought better of it. She'd already pried too much as it was. Things between them were tenuous and vague at best. Prying would only drive him farther away.

**Author's Note: **I actually wrote Veronica's letters with a fountain pen to help with characterization. There's a fine line between dedication and boredom.


	4. Chapter 4 Fishing for Information

Ben read the journal entry of Veronica's first meeting with his father. He re-read the bit where Robert Fraser lifted the young woman over a mud hole. A smile pulled at his lips as he read that. He wondered what Meg would think if he were to do that. The modern Mountie didn't think she'd find it so chivalrous.

"What is it?" Her voice pulled him away from the journal. Silently, he handed her the journal, pointing to the passage. Meg's tired eyes skimmed the sentences, one eyebrow lifting. It sounded very familiar. Benton Fraser was his father's son, no question about it.

"She sounds very young, impressionable." Meg's voice had an edge to it. It was an edge of jealously. Ben didn't hear the jealousy, just the edge.

"My father was nearly ten years younger than I am now when this took place." Ben took the journal Meg handed him with a sigh. He felt old thinking about the comparison. The inspector knew his birth date. She didn't think he was old, he was prime, like a finely aged wine. Meg kept silent. She also knew her own birth date and that made her feel old, rather like a sour grape.

"I can have the personnel people in Ottawa pull Fitzgerald's and your father's file if you'd like, Fraser." Meg offered. The Mountie's eyes shot up, the late morning sun coming in behind Meg making them look like pale green glass.

"Thank you kindly, Sir, that would be wonderful." His smile pulled at the faint laugh lines around his eyes and chiseled his cheek bones. Meg's heart skipped a beat. That smile made the favor she had to call in worth it.

"Is there anyone else's files I should ask for?" She rolled the dice that Ben might do more than smile. To her disappointment, he simply said no. It was worth a try.

A knock at the door interrupted the pair. Meg and Ben exchanged anxious glances. They scrambled to put the letters and other mementos back in the envelope.

"Come in." Meg's voice carried easily across the room and through the door. Turnbull popped his head into the room, wondering at the secretive expression on his superior's faces. He often wondered what was going on with them.

"Sirs, pardon the intrusion, there's a call from Ottawa on line one for you, Inspector Thatcher." The junior Mountie informed her. He saw a slight, apologetic shrug go through his boss lady's frame.

"We'll continue that project at a later date, Constable. Dismissed." Inspector Thatcher put her bossy attitude back on as she picked up the phone.

"Yes, Ma'am." Fraser turned on his heel, the envelope tucked under one arm. Without looking at Turnbull, he walked back into his office.

"I see you spent the morning reading those letters with the inspector." The elder Fraser's voice came before Benton saw him sitting in his office chair.

"I wouldn't have to if you'd just tell me about her, Dad." Benton laid the envelope on the desk and took a seat across from his usual seat.

"There's nothing you need to know, Son. Let this die." Robert Fraser leaned forward, his light eyes sparking as they peered out from beneath his wooly, gray brows.

"Not until I find out if I have another half sister." Ben leaned too, his posture matching that of his father's.

"You always were hard headed, just like your mother." The old Mountie groused as he sat back.

"You aren't exactly a pushover, you know." Ben shot back at him. The old man narrowed his eyes at him like a cat ready to hiss.

"If you won't listen I refuse to talk." Thumping his fist on the desk, Robert Fraser rose to his feet and strode off to the closet/cabin. If that's the way the old man wanted to act then it was fine with Ben.

He was still a little miffed when the phone in his office rang loudly. Ben jerked the offending machine off the desk and pressed the receiver to his ear.

"Constable Benton Fraser here." He waited to hear the voice on the other end.

"Benton, this is Buck Frobisher, I was expecting your call." Ben hit his forehead with the heel of his hand.

"Yes, Sergeant Frobisher, my apologies." The younger Mountie shifted uncomfortably on is feet. "I was preoccupied reading the letters and journal entries."

"Have you found out who this woman was?" Buck's voice carried his curiosity across the miles.

"Yes, her name was Veronica, Commander Luke Fitzgerald's niece."

"I remember her. She came to stay with her aunt and uncle for the summer after graduating from college in the States. She was a lovely girl." A fondness crept into the older Mountie's voice.

"Yes, she was." Ben remembered the pictures in the envelope and how happy his father had looked beside her.

"Your father and I were good friends from the beginning, Benton, we both liked Veronica, but she took a shine to your father. They had more in common than she and I did." Buck sounded almost wistful.

"Do you know what happened between Veronica and my father that he wouldn't speak of her?" Ben began fishing for information.

"After Veronica made it clear who she preferred I backed off. Robert only said that she wrote him a letter saying good-bye." Buck didn't take the bait. Benton didn't think he would, the old Mountie may bumble around but he wasn't nearly as much a Magoo as people thought.

"I'm trying to establish what happened to her and her daughter after she left the post. Do you know where she was from, Sergeant Frobisher?" Ben cast his line again.

"Chicago, I believe." The old man knew more but Benton knew he wouldn't tell. He'd been Robert Fraser's friend longer than Benton had been alive and that's where his allegiance rested.

"Thank you kindly, Sergeant Frobisher." The younger Mountie wished him a good day and hung up, only a little better off than before.

_**June 1, 1959**_

"Come on, Veronica, the fish are biting." Luke's voice rang out as he called to her from the bottom of the stairs. He'd been dressed and ready for an hour. The picnic and fishing gear were already loaded into the Jeep.

"I'm almost ready, Uncle Luke." The young woman called back. She stood in front of the full length mirror looking at herself. Dressed in Landon's old jeans, a white undershirt beneath a flannel shirt and a pair of her cousin's boots she barely recognized herself. Aunt Edna had braided her shoulder length, mahogany hair into pig tails. Veronica wore one of her uncle's cotton handkerchiefs over her hair.

"My mother would have a fit if she saw me this way." Veronica thought to herself. Her mother was a world away. With a smile the young woman turned and walked away from the mirror. It felt good to be free of petticoats and shoes that pinched for a while.

"I'm ready, Uncle Luke. Is there anything I can do to help?" Veronica volunteered as she met him on the bottom step.

"Nope, Robert and Buck have already loaded everything." Veronica had to stand three steps up just to look him in the eye. "Caroline's in the kitchen with Edna making sure there's enough food to go around." Uncle Luke smiled.

"Who's Caroline?" Veronica's brow wrinkled, she didn't think there were any female mounties.

"She's Robert's sweetheart." The big man shrugged. He didn't see his niece's crestfallen expression creep up for a moment.

__"Oh, well, that's nice." The young woman faked a smile. She'd hoped the young constable would be unattached.

_**At the Consulate … **_

Fraser sat in his office with the journal and the letters, reading entries when Inspector Thatcher knocked on his door.

"Inspector, I thought you had left for the day." The subordinate officer rose to attention when she stepped inside.

"I came to tell you that I've requested Fitzgerald's records for you. I hope they help." Her voice was characteristically professional but the words themselves were different.

"Thank you kindly, Ma'am." Fraser stood tall at the side of his desk, looking at something just to the left of Meg's face. If he looked into her eyes he felt like he'd lose control and do something they might both regret.

"Do you want to finish reading the letter this evening, Constable Fraser? I don't have any plans." Meg slapped her own face mentally for saying that. Once out though it was too late.

"Yes, if you're sure you're free tonight." Ben wondered why she would spend her free time cooped up in the consulate rather than go home where at least she could relax and unwind.

"I'm positive, I know my own mind, Constable." She looked at him like he didn't have sense enough to get in out of the rain.

"Yes, Ma'am." Fraser stiffened a bit. Just about the time he thought she had a good word for him she'd cut him down.

Meg felt like a heel again. She hadn't meant to be so sharp with Fraser. Heaven help him, he did ask some dopey questions once in a while.

"I'll order Chinese before we get started, Constable Fraser." It was as close to an apology as Meg would give. Fraser simply nodded.

"Chicken or beef?" She made it to the door before turning on her heel.

"Either, Ma'am, your preference." Benton's lips pulled up on one side.

Fraser and Inspector Thatcher settled down to their reading. The chair across from Fraser wasn't as comfortable as the one in Meg's office. She squirmed in the straight back chair a few times before Fraser noticed.

"Would you care to switch chairs, Inspector Thatcher?" Fraser popped up like a Pop Tart. Meg froze for a moment. Fraser was as chivalrous as his father had been.

"Thank you, Fraser." Meg stood up, trying to work the kinks out of her back. As she stood she heard a knock at the front door. Both Canadians were on their feet. Both of them made for the door. It wasn't wide enough for the both of them. Like something out of a Three Stooges short, they stuck there.

"After you, Ma'am." Fraser stepped back, his face matching his uniform. Meg flashed him an exasperated glance and took off at a fast clip, despite her two inch, block heels. Meg paid the Asian delivery boy for the boxes and wished him farewell. Fraser stopped the dejected boy and gave him a five dollar tip. That brought a smile to the young man's face.

"I ordered both beef and chicken." Inspector Thatcher shrugged as she set the white, paper boxes on his desk. Ben stood at the door frame, watching a side of Meg Thatcher he hadn't glimpsed before.

Sitting down to eat, Fraser and Meg ate silently for a while. She noticed he used chopsticks rather than the plastic flatware she preferred. His hands were so deft at claiming the food from his box. Had he looked up, Ben would have seen her watching with a dreamy twinkle in her eyes.

"Did Sergeant Frobisher shed any light on this mystery woman?" Thatcher asked after half a box of General Tso's chicken. The question came out a little more nonchalant than she'd intended but figured he was too focused on his beef to notice. Wrong. Benton simply let it slide.

"He informed me that Veronica was Fitzgerald's niece, which we already knew and that he thought she was from Chicago." Ben rummaged around in his dinner box for another beef tip as he answered.

"The obituaries!" Meg nearly shouted, wondering why she hadn't thought of it sooner. Ben hit his forehead with the heel of his hand.

"I'll begin searching the newspapers tomorrow." The Mountie forgot about his dinner momentarily. "Very good idea, Inspector Thatcher." He gave her one of his open, honest smiles, so unguarded. Meg wondered what he'd be like if she were to tickle him. The thought struck her funny.

"Glad to be of assistance, Constable Fraser." She let a small, satisfied smile through. For a long moment the pair held each other's gaze. It felt good to be working on something together. Meg felt privileged that Fraser had shared something so personal with her.

"I'm almost finished with the letters." Meg felt uncomfortable. She felt out of control.

"Ah, I still have several journal entries to sort through." Ben added, returning his attention to his dinner.

"This Veronica was a prolific writer." Meg sighed, no longer interested in eating. She tossed her half full box into the trash and picked up another letter.

"Yes, she was. Reading her journal, I can see where my father might have been attracted to her. She was a well educated, well read, well spoken woman. Her photograph shows an attractive young woman." The Mountie picked up one of the photographs and examined it.

Meg nearly had to bite her tongue off to keep from asking if that was the kind of woman he was attracted to. She felt a kinship to Veronica reading her letters. It was clear that she deeply cared for Robert Fraser and that she dreaded the roll her parents had planned for her future.

Ben finished his Chinese dinner and threw away the box. He watched Meg read the letter for a moment. He wondered if his feelings for Meg were as strong as his father's had been for Veronica. If they were then he couldn't have imagined letting her leave. Ben realized that if it were him in the same position he wouldn't want it to be laid bare for his son either. He didn't know if he could apologize to his father. Strictly speaking, Robert's relationship with Veronica was none of Ben's business. Still, the Mountie figured he should settle the question of Veronica's daughter. If he had another half sister he needed to know.

With that in mind, the Mountie dove back into the journal entries.

_**June 1, 1959 continued … **_

Buck Frobisher sat in the drivers' seat of a second Jeep parked behind the Fitzgeralds'. He was a big man, broad shouldered with wheat colored blonde hair and crystalline blue eyes. Veronica was taken aback when she laid eyes on him. She'd never seen a man in real life with movie star good looks like Buck.

"Come on, Veronica, I've got a seat for you right here." Aunt Edna patted the back seat of their Jeep.

"Ah, let her ride with the young people, Edna, we see her all day." Uncle Luke waved his wife's worry away. The big man strode across the yard and began making introductions.

"Veronica, this is Robert Fraser, you've met." Luke pointed to the guy in the passenger seat. "This big lug is Buck Frobisher, class clown." Buck gave his boss a mock innocent smile. "This young lady who puts up with the both of them is Caroline Pinsent." A young lady seated in the back seat with sparkling blue eyes and dark brown hair smiled and extended her hand.

"Pleased to meet you, Veronica." Caroline's grip was firm.

"Hello." Veronica thought she must be some woman to keep up with both Buck and Robert. She looked the type who could skin anything that didn't skin her first. Caroline was a handsome, young woman who seemed at ease in this big country.

"So, they tell me you're in from the States, just graduated college. What did you study, if you don't mind my asking?" Caroline adjusted the scarf around her dark hair as she openly studied the smaller woman seated beside her on the back seat.

"I received a bachelor's degree in English." Veronica answered, thinking back to all those boring classes she'd taken and the mountain of books she'd read.

"Ah, you and Robert will get along just fine, George and Martha Fraser are librarians. Robert grew up with a book in his hand." Caroline's voice was teasing as the young man looked back at her dryly. She giggled.

"So, where is this fishing spot Uncle Luke's been going on about for a week?" Veronica directed her question to Buck.

"It's up the river about three miles. There's a big shoal there this time of year and the fish leap out to be caught." Buck thrust his fist up into the air to demonstrate.

"Do we need fishing poles or just nets?" Veronica laughed as they passed some of the most beautiful country she'd ever seen. Everything was lush and green for the short summer. Mountains that looked like you could just reach out and touched them loomed out in the distance.

"You can catch them in your frying pan." Robert joined in. All four of them laughed.

Luke and Edna watched the four, younger people as they fished the river, digging bait and exploring the area. Veronica put herself in charge of the picnic, spreading the blanket on the river sand and starting a fire, with Uncle Luke's help. Edna had packed enough for an army, but doubted there's be anything left when the boys got into it.

Ten minutes after setting up and settling in to fish, Edna had caught one. She put it on a stringer line and put it back in the cool, clear water until later. Buck and Robert soon followed her. Caroline watched Robert like a hawk as he watched Veronica. The English major had been fishing before but had never quite mastered casting. Of course, Robert had to give her a lesson. Caroline's blue eyes turned green with jealousy.

"Buck, how about we find a place a little up stream." Caroline suggested, trying to get Robert's attention.

"Alright, be right there." The big Mountie shrugged and began gathering his gear. Robert didn't look their way. Steam could have blown out of Caroline's ears.

"I think we just made her mad." Veronica said softly as she settled her pole in a forked stick.

"She'll get over it." Robert shrugged as he watched his line jerk suddenly.

"You don't know much about women, do you?" Veronica laughed, watching him pull a fish from the stream. The off-duty Mountie didn't respond. Robert knew more about female muskrats' ways

than human females methods and motivations.

After lunch Veronica gave up fishing. Wriggling worms didn't bother her, it was putting them on hooks that got to her. Instead she sat on the large, wool blanket and read _The Old Man and the Sea _by Earnest Hemingway. She liked how easy she could read the small book. She could smell the salty sea air and hear the lapping of waves against the side of the boat as she read. Off down the shoal she heard Caroline and Buck shouting and giggling as they threw rocks in the water to splash water at each other.

"I haven't read that one yet." Robert's shadow crossed Veronica's path. Dog-earring the page, she smiled up at him.

"You'd like it, you can borrow it after I'm through." She patted a spot next to her for Robert to sit.

"Thank you kindly." The Mountie tipped his Stetson.

"From what Caroline said I take it you read a lot." The young American began. Books were always a safe topic.

"Whenever I have the time, yes." Robert settled himself on the blanket opposite Veronica. She seemed like a breath of fresh air compared to the other women in the area. He liked that she wasn't so practical, or so rugged. To him, Veronica was like an imported flower, only around for a certain amount of time.

"There isn't much spare time with the RCMP, is there?" Veronica asked, twirling a blade of grass in her long, delicate fingers. Robert nodded, watching her hand. He'd noticed the small, diamond ring on her left hand the first time they'd met. In his heart, he knew he should put one on Caroline's hand. He also knew Caroline would be there long after Veronica had left for the States.

**Author's Note:** Saw a Due South promo on WKYT/CBS from it's original run. All new episode Thursday at 8 PM. The car adds are for 'Brand New, 1995' Fords. It was a wild feeling of deja vu. This doesn't really have anything to advance the plot of the fan fiction but I thought I'd include it anyway.


	5. Chapter 5 It's a Date

_**June 6, 1959**_

Things around the post had taken on a routine for Veronica. She fixed breakfast while Aunt Edna carried in fire wood and gathered eggs from the hen house. After dressing she walked through the village to the general store. It didn't take long for the owner, Mr. Sebastian, to know her by name.

At the end of the week Veronica ran into Caroline after she'd posted a letter to her parents. The tall brunette wore a lovely purple dress with tiny violets printed across the full skirt. It flattered her lean figure well.

"Hello, Veronica, how are things?" Caroline's blue eyes were as cold as the mountain tops in the distance.

"I'm fine, thank you. How are you?" Veronica smiled tensely. She'd expected the ice treatment the next time she'd see Caroline after spending the better part of the afternoon with Robert on the fishing trip.

"I'm rather concerned actually." People came and went around them, transacting business with Mr. Sebastian.

"Oh, about what?" Veronica took the bait offered her.

"About you. I'm concerned that if you spend any more time with Robert Fraser I'm going to have to rearrange your face." Caroline leaned down into the other woman's face, her eyes even colder, if possible. Veronica shrank back into the dry goods where she stood hidden behind a rack of parkas.

"I'm not trying to steal Robert from you, I already have a fiancee of my own, see!" Veronica pushed her left hand out for Caroline to see. One eye brow cocked, she looked at the miniscule diamond on her hand.

"I don't care what you got out of a Cracker Jack box. I see you with Robert and I'm going to drag you out where God can't hear you scream, understand?" Caroline hissed.

"Understood." Veronica swallowed hard as Caroline pulled back.

"Good, then I'll see you at the dance on Friday. Buck's going to come ask you later this evening. Act surprised." With a taunting smile, the Canadian sauntered off toward the front door. Shaken, Veronica took a deep breath to collect herself. She hadn't seen an engagement ring on Caroline's hand. What right did she have to tell her to back off of Robert? Veronica determined to see it through, damn the consequences.

_**At the Consulate …**_

Diefenbaker sniffed the trash can, smelling the scent of beef and chicken in the Chinese take-out boxes. He considered for a moment having the left overs for breakfast but remembered the last time he'd eaten chicken out of the trash and turned away. He didn't want to repeat that unique experience, and he knew Fraser didn't either.

"No, Dief, I do not, now you've had your kibble and two sausage patties from my breakfast." The half wolf looked up at him with his best, most innocent expression. Fraser wasn't fooled. The phone interrupted them.

"Hello." Fraser sat behind his desk, preparing the day's paperwork. He'd heard Inspector Thatcher come in at her usual nine o'clock and chastise Turnbull for getting her coffee order wrong-again. Fraser had expected a phone call within minutes, that's just the way she worked.

"Constable Fraser, I have the papers for the last few weeks. I thought we might find this Veronica's obituary, when your duties permit." She sounded too professional, but the Mountie let it slide, as usual.

"I'll be ready in a quarter hour." Ben found himself looking forward to continuing the search with Meg.

"Good, see you in my office then." He heard the dial tone in his ear. Slowly, Ben hung up and began gathering the journal, letters and legal pad. In the remaining dozen minutes, he finished his report and filed it away.

_**Down the Hall …**_

Meg checked her make-up and smoothed her hair after popping in a peppermint from her stash in the desk drawer. She knew Fraser would be five minutes early. He was always early.

TAP, TAP, TAP Sure enough, there he was. Meg stuffed her mirror into the desk drawer and told him to come in. Walking over to the television, Fraser turned it on, to deter eavesdropping.

"I'm surprised that you haven't turned to Ray for help with this." Meg began as she cleared her desk. Fraser looked up from the legal pad in his hand, his surprised barely hidden.

"He didn't express any interest in the matter actually." Ben shrugged as he took a seat across the desk from his boss lady.

"Oh." Meg didn't know how to respond. Sometimes she envied the friendship between Ray and Fraser. There was no need for formality between them.

"Here's the _Chicago Sun-Times_, I'll take the other one." Meg handed Fraser the thick stack of papers spanning the last four weeks. With a nod he took them, their hands almost touching.

"Thank you, Sir." That formal title ended any romantic spark for Meg. She nodded and tried to ignore him as she leafed through the stack of papers on her desk. She didn't know how close Fraser had come to taking her fingers in his just to feel her warmth.

The investigative team spent the next hour scanning the obituaries, circling likely suspects. They sat in a companionable silence. After every obit, Ben would steal a glance at the woman across from him. He wished she'd put aside her vanity and put her glasses on to read. In a few hours there would be the inevitable headache which always made her irritable. Ben didn't understand her reasoning. Sometimes he didn't understand his own reasoning. Why did he check his appearance before going into her office, or why did he always use the same, Irish Spring soap he knew she liked?

"This is the last paper, the last obituary for me." Meg tossed the paper on the floor atop the stack they'd gone through. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to rub away the dull ache.

"We have ten suspects named either Veronica or Vicky. The next step is collecting telephone records for them." Ben tossed his last newspaper on top of the stack before leaning back.

"May I see the envelope the letters came in, Constable?" Meg motioned for him to hand it over. She pulled out a magnifying glass and peered intently at the sender's address. The ink was smudged on the stiff paper.

"Hmm, I wonder if there's an impression?" Quickly, Meg seized her letter opener and slit the other end of the envelope, then one of the remaining two sides. With the envelope now a single sheet of paper Meg turned it over and held it up to the light. She could see a faint impression where Veronica had pressed down hard with the ball point pen.

"May I, Sir?" Reluctantly and with annoyance, Meg handed the envelope over to him.

"Veronica, 221 Oak Street, Chicago. There's no sir name but it should narrow the list." Ben looked at the rest of the envelope.

"You're welcome." Meg said smugly. Ben ignored her, focusing instead at the other impressions he found on the back of the envelope. There were pieces of other words, 'Mason' being one of them. The Mountie remembered a Vicky Mason from the obituaries he'd read.

"May I have the telephone book, Sir?" Ben asked, the thrill of the chase beginning.

"Here. What did you find, Constable?" Meg carried the heavy book to him, peering over his shoulder at the legal pad he'd written several names on.

"Mason, I believe her married name was Mason, I'm looking for either a Veronica, 'Vicky' or an Alfred Mason, and possibly Bernadette." If this didn't work, Fraser intended to search marriage records next.

"Two V. Mason listings for Oak Street, that's a start." Meg picked up the phone as Benton wrote down the phone numbers. A few minutes later she extended the phone to Benton.

"It's ringing." She didn't know if she should leave or wait.

Benton dried his sweaty palms on the thighs of his uniform pants before taking the receiver from Inspector Thatcher.

"Hello?" A woman's voice greeted him.

"Hello, This is Benton Fraser calling in regards to a Veronica Fitzgerald Mason?" The Mountie prayed he wouldn't have to repeat this spiel more than once.

"Yes, that's my mother, who did you say this was?" The lady's voice became more suspicious.

"Ma'am, this is Constable Benton Fraser, of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, currently assigned to the consulate here in Chicago. I'm calling because I received a package in the mail from a Veronica of 221 Oak Street. Is, ah, was that your mother?" Ben waited with his heart in his throat for her to answer.

"Fitzgerald" The woman's voice said somewhere between a statement and a question.

"Yes. From the journal entries and letters, I believe that is her maiden name. Her uncle was a post commander in the North West Territories during the fifties and sixties." The Mountie tried to be as concise as possible, curbing his urge to babble. The line was silent for a moment and he wondered if she'd hung up on him.

"Meet me in Green's Park at five o'clock tonight. I'll be wearing a red scarf and matching gloves." The line did go dead after that. Bumfuzzled, Benton handed Meg back the receiver.

"I have to meet her in Green's Park this evening at six o'clock, then she hung up." Ben didn't know what to think or feel just yet.

"Do you think it's Veronica's daughter, perhaps?" The lady Mountie came around the desk, her hands on her hips to stand beside Fraser. Heavens, he smelled good.

"Yes, I also believe she knows her mother's doubts about her paternity." Ben studied his boots a moment, trying to regain his equilibrium.

"Are you going this evening?"

"I intend to be there, yes." Benton looked up from his boots, determination hardening his gaze.

"Alone?" It was the simplest way Meg could think of to ask to go along.

"You wish to go as back up, Sir?" The Mountie cast a professional slant on it.

"Back up, yes. You never know who'll show up." Meg sighed, relieved. Ben thought for a second. He could see she was dying to go. Keeping her waiting for an answer would be mean. He was half tempted to say no but knew she'd probably just follow him anyway.

"Thank you kindly, Sir. I'll come to your office at five-thirty."

"It's a date." Meg said before ever thinking of what the words meant. She turned as red as Fraser's uniform. "I meant to say, I'll be here." Had she looked Fraser in the eye she would have seen an amused glint there. "Dismissed, Constable Fraser." Thankfully, the Mountie turned on his heel and headed out the door and to his office.

_**June 9,1959**_

Every Mountie not on-duty stood on the dance floor as the music played in the RCMP horse barn. The officers had been cleaning out the barn for a week, trying to get rid of the manure smell. Buck arrived at the Fitzgeralds' house promptly at six to collect Veronica. He was quite the eye full in his dress reds and freshly shined boots.

"You look lovely, Veronica." The tall Mountie's deep voice carried as she walked slowly down the stairs.

"Thank you, Buck, you look handsome yourself." She took the hand he offered as she reached the bottom step.

"If I may," He slipped a white corsage on her wrist.

"It's beautiful, thank you, Buck." Veronica smiled up at him, her blue eyes shining like sapphires.

"I'm ready to go when you are, Luke." Edna came out of the first floor bedroom adjusting her pearls.

"Oh, hello, Buck. Well, don't the two of you make a lovely pair, let me get my camera." The older woman rushed back into the bedroom.

"Caroline told me you were coming to ask me to the dance." Veronica's voice was low, she didn't want her aunt or uncle to hear.

"Oh, she did. I asked her not to say anything when I sounded her out about asking you." Buck raised his dark blond brows.

"I appreciate you asking. I'm only mentioning it because she also told me to stay away from Robert." The young lady shrugged, toying with the corsage at her wrist.

"I can see where she'd consider you competition." The Mountie conceded as he looked at the pictures along the wall.

"Maybe you can suggest to her that I'm not here to steal Robert from her. I have a fiancee of my own back home. Whatever there is between Robert and I will be over as soon as I leave in September." Looking down into Veronica's eyes, Buck could see that she was sincere.

"I'll try, but no promises." The big Mountie shrugged.

"Here we go, stand together for me." Edna came in, camera in hand and a smile on her face. She didn't like Robert nosing around her niece and seeing Caroline at the same time. It wasn't fair to anyone involved. "Smile, say 'cheese'." The young pair smiled brightly for the black and white image.

Caroline wore an ivory colored dress that made her pale skin look fresh and young, her hair swept up. She held Robert's hand as she saw Buck escort Veronica into the barn. A band comprised of local talent played near one end of the barn. A guitar, fiddle, and bass player picked while a young officer played sang a Jim Reeves tune. Couples from the village swayed to the tune, others stood along around the perimeter listening, talking or drinking punch.

Buck waved when he saw his friend on the dance floor. Robert waved back, getting a pissed off glare from Caroline for his efforts. Veronica could see them exchange words but couldn't hear what they were. She felt sorry for Robert.

"Veronica, will you give your old uncle a dance later?" Luke asked as he and Edna drew near.

"Uncle Luke, of course. Why wouldn't I dance with the one who taught me how?" She slapped his arm playfully.

"That's my girl." With a broad smile the post commander took his wife's hand and led her out onto the floor as a new, faster song began.

"I didn't realize your uncle liked to dance." Buck observed as he led Veronica onto the floor.

"That's how he and Aunt Edna met, at a club in the early forties." The young lady fell into step easily with the big Mountie. Buck was well coordinated as they avoided other couples and followed the music. When the song ended everyone clapped for the players. Kerosene lanterns on the barn posts cast soft light around the dance floor. Flood lights had been set up near the musicians and around the food table.

"Would you like punch?" Buck offered as a slow song began. Glad for the distraction, Veronica nodded. She'd rather dance a slow one with Robert. Across the floor, she caught Robert's eye as he made his way toward the refreshment table. A few of the village women came up to welcome Veronica to Spencer Falls and ask her about her stay. She smiled politely and answered their questions.

"Excuse me ladies, I'm going to steal her for a dance." Robert came up to her elbow and whisked her onto the floor.

"Do you want Caroline to rearrange my face?" Veronica asked as they passed the young woman and Buck Frobisher waltzing.

"She's all bark and no bite, don't worry." Robert smiled at her, his eyes teasing. All Veronica could do was shake her head.

The dance broke up around eleven o'clock. Luke and Edna asked if they could drive Veronica back to the house but she decided to ride back with Buck, just so Caroline could see her with him. One dance with Robert and she felt like the other woman's eyes were tattooed on her neck. She relished the cold night air outside the barn just for the peace she saw in the stars.

"I hope you had a good time this evening, Veronica." Buck's voice broke the stillness as she stood leaning on the Jeep, staring into the night sky.

"I had a wonderful time, Buck, thank you for asking me to come. I'm sure there were a ton of other girls who were waiting to be asked." The young American smiled, thinking of the long line of wallflowers staring jealously at the couples on the dance floor. Veronica paid her dues in that line back home.

"I would have asked Caroline, but she said no one had asked you." Buck admitted. He knew the score between his three best friends and the commander's niece. The big Mountie felt like the low man on the love totem pole.

"I'm sorry you got caught up in all this, Buck." Veronica laid a cool hand on his bigger one as he slid behind the wheel.

"That's alright, Veronica, it won't last forever." He put on his biggest smile as she climbed in beside him.

Robert had been sitting on the commander's office porch since shortly after he and Caroline had left the dance. He sat there letting the chill of the evening cool his temper. All the things he and Caroline had said to each other replayed in his mind. She'd been so venomous, accusing him of cheating on her. Robert had asked her how he could cheat on someone he'd never actually been in a relationship with. He could still feel where she'd slapped him, the print of her hand running from his left ear to beneath his nose. The Mountie was glad she hadn't slugged him or there would be a lot more explaining to be done in the morning.

"Good night, Veronica. I'll see you around." Buck walked her to the front door. Robert stood up, his painful cheek forgotten. He watched as she stood on the step and he drove the Jeep away.

"Veronica." The Mountie called softly. He hesitated to meet her in the middle of the dirt path separating the house and the commander's office for fear her uncle was watching.

"Robert?" She stepped out into the darkness. She giggled as she felt him sweep her up, into his arms and whirl her around.

"I had to see you one more time before going back to the house." He pressed a gentle kiss against her lips.

"Oh, Robert, you're so sweet." The young woman's heart skipped a beat as her feet dangled above the gravel drive. In his arms was exactly where she wanted to stay.

"I wish I could have danced with you more." He set her down, breaking the beautiful spell enveloping them.

"Was Caroline terribly mad?" Guilt pulled the smile off of Veronica's voice.

"Ah, she'll get over it." The Mountie shrugged, blase about the whole thing.

"I don't want to cause trouble for you, Robert." Veronica toyed with one of the shiny, brass buttons on his uniform as she snuggled against him.

"You're worth the risk." The Mountie looked down into those blue eyes and saw a world of wonder, a world of possibilities.

"You've only known me since May, scarcely a month." She frowned up at him, exasperated.

"That's long enough when it's real." Robert chuckled as he pressed a kiss against her forehead.

"It is , isn't it." She smiled up at him.

**Author's Note:** Yeah, I know Caroline went kinda Redneck on Veronica, but that's just the way a girl can get when someone else is moving in on her man, Canadian or not.


	6. Chapter 6 Don't Melt

Ben sat looking at the photographs in the envelope. He'd searched the faces, wondering about that summer. If his father had cared so much for this woman, enough to maybe father her child, then why did they part? Why was Buck Frobisher so unwilling to shed any light on the situation? Again, what could have happened that was so bad neither of them would talk about it?

"Do you still think about her, Son?" Bob Fraser's voice broke through Ben's reverie.

"Hmm, who, Dad?" Benton sat up straight in his desk chair, his long finger covering his mouth.

"Victoria" That one word made the younger Mountie flinch.

"Sometimes, why?" The remnants of old pain, both physical and emotional, flared as Ben rested his elbows on his desk.

"I think of Veronica sometimes too." The old man confessed, his hands behind his back as he paced the length of the desk.

"Was it that bad, Dad?" Ben stood, stretching his muscles after hours of sitting. Diefenbaker lay in the corner, snoring and kicking as he dreamed of chasing snow shoe rabbits.

"Even after the better part of forty years I can still hear her laugh." For a moment Bob was back in Fitzgerald's office, listening to Veronica's voice.

"She meant a lot to you."

"Not nearly as much as your mother, Benton. Never as much as Caroline." Bob Fraser turned to face his son.

"In Veronica's journal she tells of bumping into Mom in the general store. Mom then proceeded to tell her to back off, that she would drag her out where God couldn't hear her scream." That made the old man laugh. He could hear his wife saying those words as clearly as if he were there.

"She was a firebrand at times. Caroline kept life interesting to say the least." Bob wiped tears of laughter out of his eyes.

"I miss her so much." Benton studied the window sill, trying to remember his mother's face, her scent, anything about her. He'd been so young when she died.

"Me too, Son, me too." The old Mountie's tone was as sad as Benton felt. They both stood staring out the window for a while.

Meg took the heavy file folder she'd requested the day before from Ottawa. An amorous, young Mountie she'd met while in the academy had agreed to slip the file into the official correspondence in exchange for a full length picture of her in red serge. He had a women in uniform fetish that creeped Meg out. Still, he was thousands of miles away and she would do anything for Fraser.

Looking at the sealed envelope, she contemplated opening it before Fraser arrived in her office at five o'clock. She wanted to know almost as much as he did what happened the summer of 1959. She sat studying the unopened file when she heard a knock on the door.

"Enter" She turned the file folder over, concealing the name. Her heart stopped for a second when she saw Fraser enter, his Stetson in his hand.

"Inspector Thatcher, it's time to leave. I believe you said we had a-date- as you put it." Fraser saw the blush rising in her face as she rose to her feet.

"Don't ever refer to that phrase again, Constable Fraser." She nearly barked at him.

"Yes, Sir." He met her gaze levelly, his face as pale as if he hadn't just embarrassed her twice in one day.

"Let me get my coat and purse." Meg adjusted the pants suit she'd worn.

"I hope you brought an umbrella, it's raining out." Benton handed her the trench coat hanging on the coat tree. Meg could have sworn he was telling her to amuse himself at her reaction. She narrowed her dark eyes and pursed her lips.

"I assure you, Constable Fraser, I won't melt." Her husky voice dropped to a lush depth that did crazy things to Ben's central nervous system in a good way.

"I never meant to intimate you would melt, Sir." She turned around and gave him her signature annoyed glare. For a moment Meg wondered if he were flirting with her. If so, it was the most confusing flirting technique she'd ever encountered. With a silent sigh, the pair set out, Fraser hailing a cab the first try.

Bernadette Mason paced beneath a picnic shelter in Green's Park, wringing her hands. She'd been dreading this day for months. Her mother, Veronica, had confessed to sleeping with one of her uncle's junior officers a few weeks before marrying Alfred Mason. Bernadette had searched her family photos, trying to see the similarities between her father and herself as well as her son. Pacing around the tables, Bernadette kept looking for a someone like the photograph her mother had shown her when she confessed. Her mother had told her a few days after the doctors had told her she was in the final stages of bone cancer. Those last days had been some hard days.

"Bernadette?" A questioning male voice called out. Looking out, she saw a tall, handsome man wearing the distinct, red, RCMP uniform.

"Yes, that's me." She motioned the odd pair toward her, red mittens bright against the gloomy day, a matching hat pulled securely over her dark, loose curls. Ben saw the resemblance between Bernadette and her mother's photographs.

"Constable Benton Fraser, we spoke on the phone this morning." He extended a hand. Bernadette looked to the drowned woman accompanying him.

"Meg Thatcher, ah, friend." She looked up at him, something indefinable passing between them. The three of them took as seat at the nearest picnic table.

"You said you received a package, from my mother, Veronica Fitzgerald Mason?" The young woman was tall, taller than Meg but shorter than Ben. Her clear, blue eyes searched his face.

"Yes," Benton pulled the envelope out, it's contents in a Ziploc bag. He pulled out the picture of Robert Fraser and Veronica. Tears sprang to her eyes.

"Mama." She fingered the the photograph.

"I read the last letter she wrote, to my father, that she wasn't sure if Alfred Mason was your father or Robert Fraser." Bernadette nodded, looking from Benton to the old photo.

"I've done the math, it could go either way." She shrugged. Alfred Mason had never treated her as anything other than his little girl. He doted on her growing up.

"As have I, you're right, it could go either way." Benton allowed, his shoulders bowing slightly. "Who do you believe your father is in your heart, Bernadette?" He held her gaze, his tone leading?

"Dad, Alfred Mason. He was my dad my whole life, when I needed one. He was always there for me." She handed Benton back the photograph, taking a deep breath.

"Constable, may I have a word?" Inspector Thatcher's sharp voice invaded the connection between Ben and Bernadette. He simply nodded, following Meg out of earshot.

"You aren't going to pursue DNA testing, Constable Fraser?" She seemed confused. Why would he bother delving into this mystery so far just to give up in the end?

"Her mother's confession appears to have created some emotional wounds, ad to that her mother's death. Why take her father away from her as well?" He peered down at his boots. Fraser knew for a fact who his mother and father were. So far, no old skeletons had come rattling out of his mother's closet. He seriously doubted there were any.

"I see your point, Fraser." Thatcher again, felt like a heel for questioning his methods. She was beginning to hate the feeling, but she wasn't about to say she was sorry.

Ben heard the never spoken apology in her voice. Squaring his shoulders, the Mountie turned to walk back to Bernadette.

"Constable Fraser, no matter what the results, Alfred Mason will always be my dad, but I would like to know if Robert Fraser is biological father, if that's alright with you." She'd had time to freshen her face while Meg and Ben were gone. The emotional crisis was over for her, now she had to attend to the business of living. If she had a half brother, she'd like to know for certain.

"Certainly, I'll make the arrangements." Benton volunteered with a polite nod.

"Thank you, Constable Fraser. I wouldn't know how to begin to do such a thing." Bernadette's face lightened. Everyone stood up, readying to leave. Turning to leave, the woman had a sudden question.

"Constable Fraser, have you read all the letters and the journal?" Her voice came as a wave of hard rain began pouring.

"Yes, all of them. Why?" He walked the few paces to where she stood.

"I read them all too. I think Robert Fraser was a good man, and I sense you are as well." She shrugged, not sure why she'd felt compelled to tell him.

With a smile and a nod, the Mountie tipped his hat and turned to go.

Going couldn't come soon enough to Meg Thatcher. Rain poured down her trench coat collar and the Chicago wind chilled her to the bone.

Fraser hailed a cab back to the consulate easily, despite the rain. He cut a unique enough image that cab drivers paid attention, out of curiosity. Meg shivered beside him in the back seat, not saying a word. She was looking forward to lighting a fire in the consulate's sitting room and sipping hot coffee before leaving for home.

"Inspector Thatcher," She turned from looking out the window at the sound of Fraser's voice.

"Yes," Meg straightened up in her seat.

"Thank you for accompanying me to the park and for your discretion." The usually professional tone Fraser always spoke in had changed to a more personal one.

"You're welcome, Fraser." Meg had to force herself not to lay a reassuring hand on his forearm as they sat so close in the back seat. She was still wondering why Fraser hadn't taken the matter to the replacement detective. Their gazes met for a moment. It was hard to tell what the Mountie was thinking behind those green eyes when he looked at Meg. She wasn't totally unconvinced he could tell that her thoughts were somewhere they shouldn't be. She looked away first.

"Oh, we've arrived." Meg observed as the cab pulled to the curb beside the consulate. She began fishing for cab fare in her purse.

"No need, Ma'am." Fraser handed the cabbie a folded bill from inside his Stetson. Meg let him pay, sliding out of the car behind him. She thought once about asking him for his hat because she hadn't remembered an umbrella, but she just didn't feel that bitchy.

Once inside the consulate, Meg shucked out of her trench coat and hung it in the hallway near the front door. The afternoon's damp weather had chilled her to the bone. Shivering, she made her way to the kitchen in the back. Fraser had beat her to it. Fresh coffee gurgled in the percolator. It smelled like a slice of heaven.

"Ah, thank you." She set down at the small, round table to wait. Fraser stood at the cabinet, looking for the largest mug he could find for her. It wasn't hard to anticipate her wishes after the cold rain outside. It hit against the roof over their heads, sounding like it wanted to follow them inside.

"Here you go, Ma'am." Benton handed her the mug, complete with four sugars and two creamers.

"Thank you kindly, Constable." Meg took the sixteen ounce mug from him, glad to feel the warmth of it radiating into her frigid fingers. Quietly, they each sat down at the table, sipping coffee and sorting through their thoughts.

Despite the warm coffee, Meg still felt damp to the bone. She shivered uncontrollably.

"Sir, you need to get changed out of those damp clothes. The temperature is in the thirties, but the wind chill is lower." Ben set his mug down on the table, leaning forward to see her face more clearly. Meg was pale and her hair was drenched. Her trench coat hadn't done a very good job against the weather. She nodded, rising to her feet, coffee still between her hands.

"I don't have anything to change into. I should bring something really." Without protest, Meg followed Ben to his office. Standing in the door way, she watched as he dug into the trunk beneath his sleeping cot, pulling out an RCMP sweatshirt and a pair of jogging pants.

"They will be loose, but they're dry and warm." They were folded neatly and had that unique, Fraser scent that made her melt.

"I'll bring them back, laundered, in a day or two." Meg looked up into those eyes as she took them from his hands. Why did he have to have that gaze; wise, intense, undressing her but not leering? Fraser nodded, something he did a lot.

Momentarily overwhelmed, Meg took the change of clothes to the ladies' room and changed. Looking in the mirror, she saw how much like a drowned rat she looked. Her mascara had run and her make-up had washed off. Grousing to herself, she washed it all off in the sink. Meg felt like she was seeing someone else when she looked up from the sink, a drop of water dripping off her nose.

"So, that's Meg Thatcher?" She didn't know why she'd spoken that out loud. Her voice sounded different since it was coming from someone looking so different. Meg wondered how she would handle finding out her father had had a dalliance with another woman before her mother. She didn't know for certain, but probably with less grace than Benton Fraser.

Walking back down the hall to her office, Meg noticed that Fraser was looking out the window, his hands behind his back. Damn! He stood so tall and solid. If Robert Fraser had been anything like his son, Meg could see why Veronica had fallen for him. Quietly, she tried to walk on past the door way.

Ben heard the familiar gasp from behind as the boss lady tried to sneak into her office. He'd often heard her stop just outside his doorway. She stared at him when she thought he wasn't paying attention. Ben had seen her reflection in the window pane. He'd never seen her dressed in anything but her dress uniform or a business suit. His sweatshirt swallowed her, as did the jogging pants. They made her seem smaller and cute, instead of her usual classy sex appeal. Her wet ponytail only added to the 'girl next door' charm.

Hearing her office door close, Ben turned to step outside his office. Lying in the middle of the hallway was one of her trouser socks. Picking it up, he partially dreaded taking it to her, partially he wanted to see her in those sweats again.

Ben took a deep breath and knocked on the door. He heard her call, "Enter!" clearly.

"Sir, I believe you're missing something." He held the tan sock by the cuff toward her. A distinct pink warmed her cheeks as she took it and stuffed it into a trash bag she'd appropriated from the spares inside of her office can.

"Thank you, Constable Fraser." Meg didn't meet his eyes.

"You're welcome, Sir. Are you feeling warmer now?" Ben asked, stalling as he took her in.

"Yes, finally. Thank you for the loan." She held up one rolled cuff, the rest of the sleeve bagging.

"No problem, Sir, we wouldn't want you to melt." An amused and rather mischievous glint in his voice startled her. Ben hadn't intended to say it but the words had slipped out, teasing her. Her dark eyes flashed at him. He'd seen that look a few times from her. She wanted to give a snappy comeback but professional standing forbid it.

"Good evening, Constable Fraser." Meg said by way of dismissal. Ben let a half smile pull at his full lips. He left, whistling a tune as he closed the office door.

Meg's earlier notion that Fraser was flirting with her came back full force. She _knew_ he was flirting, but in such a way that he didn't over step his bounds, insult her, and it could easily be dismissed. That infuriated her. Sometimes she wished he could put aside professionalism and tell her what in the hell he was thinking when he looked at her so intensely, so all-knowing.

"Benton Fraser, some day, you're going to tell me what you're thinking." Meg vowed.

**Author's Note:** "Whatever You Do, Don't" Shania Twain. I would love to do a video of this song from Meg's POV for them.


	7. Chapter 7 Less of a Father

_**At the Consulate … **_

Meg slid out of the cab, her brief case, umbrella and a plastic bag in hand. She had to open the consulate door for herself. Grousing, she entered the foyer, her heels clattering as she sashayed to her office.

"Constable Turnbull," Inspector Thatcher frowned up at him, pissed at having to get the door for herself. Sometimes she hated being shorter than her two subordinate officers. It made Meg feel like Napoleon.

"Yes, Sir." The junior Mountie stood at attention, feather duster in hand and an apron tied around his uniform.

"Why weren't you on duty in the foyer?" Meg demanded.

"Pardon me, Sir, I was just finishing up some light work, I …" A tap on the door interrupted his lame explanation.

"Enter!" Thatcher hadn't really wanted to hear Turnbull's chatter.

"Good morning, Inspector Thatcher." Fraser stepped inside the office.

"Dismissed, Constable Turnbull." Thatcher frowned up at him. The lanky Mountie nodded and turned to go.

"I brought back those sweats I borrowed." Neither of them heard the soft gasp as Turnbull closed the door.

"Thank you." Fraser took the bag from her.

"Have you made the arrangements for the blood tests yet?" Meg felt out of place asking such a question.

"Yes, earlier this morning." Fraser looked anywhere but at Meg. She already knew too much about him, it made him uncomfortable suddenly.

She caught the hesitation in his voice. The distance between them was wider than ever. Meg wanted to close the distance but the old walls were up in full force. Someday, she vowed she'd bust through those walls.

A million questions raced through her mind. Was he nervous? Did he want to have another half sister? How did he feel about the whole thing? The question that she'd been dying to know for so long was, how did he feel about her? None of them came out.

"Best of luck, Constable Fraser." Wow, that sounded so lame, but it had surfaced before Meg could shut herself up.

"Thank you, Sir." Fraser met her gaze, confusion knitting his brow.

"Well, I have a mountain of paperwork to attend to. Was there something you needed, Constable?" Meg took a seat behind her desk, distancing herself from him.

"I came to inquire as to your health, Sir." Fraser straightened himself.

"I'm quite well, thank you." Meg answered, wishing she could be someone else for a day. She didn't want to be the woman who had to captain the ship, keep people at arm's length, or shut off her heart like a light switch.

"Good, Sir. If you have no further need of me?" The double meaning wasn't lost on either of them, but per usual, nothing was said.

"Dismissed, Constable Fraser." The phrase came out without any emotion. Fraser nodded befroe turning to leave.

Meg couldn't bear to watch him walk away. She didn't know what she expected, for him to ask her to hold his hand during the blood work? She sighed, leaning back in her chair. What her head told her and what her heart wanted were two different things, headed in two different directions.

_**June 10, 1959**_

Veronica sat on the front porch after lunch, wishing she could be home. She'd always been home for her mother's birthday. They usually all ate out at a nice restaurant after Veronica and her mother had spent the day window shopping. She watched an eagle turning far overhead in the clear, blue sky. Cotton candy clouds drifted lazily overhead. Only in books did the young woman feel that kind of freedom. That's why she'd read so many. Only a huge library like the ones in Chicago could keep up with her voracious appetite for books. She wasn't choosy either, reading Science Fiction, Western, Horror, Romance and the Classics as she came to them.

After supper Veronica settled down on the porch swing again, reading yet another book and trying to get her mind off of home.

"Good evening, Miss." Robert's voice cut the paragraph in half. Veronica dog-eared the page and tucked the book beneath her skirts.

"Hello, are you out for a stroll, Robert?" She watched him as he took a seat on the top step of the porch.

"No, not really. I came to see you." He pulled a slim volume out of his hip pocket and handed it to her.

"Hmm, _The Sonnets of William Shakespeare_, for me?" Veronica read the title, her voice teasing.

"Veronica, who's out there?" Uncle Luke's voice called from the front room. He'd already peeked out the window.

"Robert Fraser, Uncle Luke. He's brought me a book on loan." She answered, rolling her eyes as she smiled at the young officer an arm's length away. He gave her an innocent expression.

"What _are_ you doing here, Robert Fraser?" Veronica asked him quietly. The Mountie looked at the horizon for a moment.

"I came to see you. I saw you sitting here earlier. I asked the commander and he told me you were homesick." Robert glanced up at her.

"Thanks for stopping by, Robert." Veronica couldn't help herself. After Caroline's warning, she felt defiant. What would Caroline do when she was gone? Go on to marry Robert, that's what Veronica figured.

"I know how lonely it can get out here. I spend weeks sometimes tracking criminals, lost woodsmen, just me and my dogsled team." He leaned back against the porch floor, looking up at her with a wistful smile.

"Well, I bet Caroline is always waiting for you when you get back." Veronica went trolling.

"Yes, she is, always." Robert didn't sound extremely happy about that.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder." The young woman observed.

"I am fond of Caroline. She's a wonderful woman. She'll make some man a fine wife soon." Robert shrugged, playing it cool.

"She warned me to stay away from you, did you know that?" Veronica asked, curious to see the young officer's reaction.

"Yep, I figured she would. She probably also told you Buck Frobisher was coming later to ask you the dance." Robert shrugged, nonchalant about the whole thing.

"Well, you must be a mind reader, Robert Fraser. Tell me how you do that." Veronica scoffed.

"Caroline's as easy to read as a large print book when it comes to her intentions to marry me." He leaned back to look at Veronica.

"Are you going to marry her?" She hoped it sounded as nonchalant as his statement. Really, Veronica was dying to know the answer.

"Up until lately I could have answered that question with a clear, certain answer. Now I'm not so sure." Robert sat up looking into the distance. Veronica's eyes nearly fell out of her head. She sat speechless for a moment.

"Veronica, ask Robert to stay for dessert, the cobbler is out of the oven now." Uncle Luke's voice broke the silence.

"Mmm, cobbler, sounds good. Is it peach or apple?" Robert asked, smiling like a little boy.

"Mixed berry." She answered. He smiled wider.

Later that evening Veronica flipped through the book of sonnets as she lay in bed. A folded piece of paper fell out onto her stomach. She laid the book aside and pulled the paper straight. Her eyes scanned the handwritten missive.

_Dear Veronica, _

_ I'd been looking at your photo on your uncle's desk for the last eighteen months. I saw such a bright, beautiful, young woman in that photo. I wasn't prepared for seeing you in the flesh. I saw you staring out the window the day I picked you up at the train station. You took my breath away. When I lifted you over the mud it took everything in me not to pull you close to me and keep you there. _

_ I've slipped this letter into the book hoping you'd read it. When you return the book, leave me your answer to this; can I continue to write to you while you're here in Spencer Falls? If you say no I won't bother you any more, you have my word as an RCMP officer.~_ _Robert Fraser_

Veronica re-read the letter, her mind spinning. She had no idea he would do something so bold. She'd underestimated him. Quickly, Veronica pulled out a piece of her stationary and wrote 'Yes, write me.' Then she slipped it in the book and laid back down, excited. Alfred, her fiancee had never been so romantic. Veronica planned on giving him the book back the next day.

_**At the Consulate … **_

Thursday morning, nine o'clock, that's when Bernadette and Ben were scheduled to have blood drawn. Fraser was there ten minutes early. He stood leaning against the wall of the waiting room, his hat twirling in his hands as he stared at his boots, or the floor or he could have been counting the tile flecks.

"Good morning, Constable Fraser." He heard a tentative voice from across the room. Instinctively polite, the Mountie smiled.

"Bernadette, hello." Fraser straightened up.

"I have to admit, I almost didn't come." She sat down in one of the plastic chairs, a fluorescent light shorting out, flickering overhead. Her hands shook as she clasped them in her lap.

"Constable Fraser." A dull eyed technician called from the doorway.

"What ever the results, Bernadette, Alfred Mason will always be your father." Fraser stood in front of her, his voice neutral.

"But will this make Robert Fraser less your father?" She nearly whispered, her blue eyes mournful. Fraser turned to leave without answering.

Sitting in the phlebotomist's chair, Fraser had to shuck out of two-thirds of his uniform in order for the technician to draw blood.

"I didn't hear an answer to that woman's question, Benton." Bob Fraser's voice made the younger Mountie wince before the technician had even touched him. Ben could only stare a hole into the opposite wall where his father sat in another chair.

"Well, are you going to answer me or are you going to ignore me some more?" The old Mountie became impatient.

"Relax your arm, Constable, this hurts worse the more tense you are." The technician looked at him exasperated, her mouth drawn into a tight line. 'You'd expect a rough, tough, Canadian Mountie to act a little better,' She thought to herself.

Ben took a deep breath and closed his eyes, hoping his father didn't speak until this was over.

"Okay, there you go. It's over." The technician's voice brought Ben back to the present.

"Thank you kindly." Ben watched as she put a Snoopy band-aid over the tiny wound.

"Benton, you can't ignore me forever." Bob Fraser persisted.

_"No matter how hard I try."_ The younger Mountie thought to himself. He watched as the tech exited the room, taking the sample into a back room.

"I barely knew you growing up, Dad. How could you be any less my father than you already were?" Ben's accusation struck the old man like a slap across the face.

"You're being unreasonable." The old Mountie waved it off.

"Really, Dad, I don't know why you show up sometimes." Benton stood up and began adjusting his lanyard. When he turned to look back the old man had disappeared, which was just as well with Ben.

"I guess it's my turn now." Bernadette stood up, taking a deep breath to counter act her apprehension.

"Best of luck." Benton wished her as he watched her meet the technician at the door. She smiled broadly at him, her dark curls framing her face.

"Hey, Frase, what's up? I haven't seen you in here in over a week. I was beginning to think you'd heard the call of the wild." Ray K greeted his unofficial partner easily.

"How have you been, Ray?" Fraser asked, dodging the question.

"Ah, nothin' much, just the usual." The wiry detective shrugged. "Say, where have you been?" Ray asked again.

"Trying to figure out who my father's mystery girl was." Fraser answered without really telling Ray anything new.

"Did you find her?" Like a cat on a mouse, the detective latched on to Fraser's dangling sentence.

"Yes, she was the niece of one of his post commanders, Veronica Mason of Chicago." The Mountie took his customary seat across the desk from Ray. Frannie's heels could be heard clacking as she made a B-line for Fraser.

"Hello, Benton." Frannie cooed. Three plus years and she still had her sights set on the Mountie.

"Francesca, good morning." He gave her an unenthusiastic greeting and a nod.

"Where's Dief?" The Civilian Aide asked, striking her best model pose.

"At the consulate, he's waiting for Turnbull to slip him a meatball. I'll tell him you were asking after him." Fraser tossed his Stetson on the coat tree behind the filing cabinets easily.

"Okay." Frannie gave Ray one of those 'He can be so weird', expressions before she turned to leave, her hips swinging like a grandfather clock's pendulum on Meth.

"Did this Veronica chick have any kids er what, tell me about her." Ray latched right back onto the very subject Fraser was hesitant to talk about.

"Yes, she had a daughter, very near my age." Fraser responded, wishing he'd never come to the precinct after the DNA testing appointment.

"So, you think you have another half sister, eh?" Ray leaned forward, studying the Canadian.

"Yes, perhaps. From the journal entries and letters, I sense there was something more between my father and Veronica Mason. Something that Buck Frobisher isn't telling me."

"Oh, so you still haven't solved all of the mystery. Anything I can do to help?" The detective offered.

"Thank you kindly, but no, Ray. I'm still sorting through some of my father's files." Fraser checked his wrist watch. "I have to be going, my shift at the consulate starts in twenty minutes." The Mountie stood up and collected his hat.

"Call me later and we'll have dinner er somethin'." Ray offered.

"Thank you, Ray, I will." Fraser adjusted his hat before leaving. He didn't know why he'd come to the precinct, the consulate just wasn't the place he wanted to be either.


	8. Chapter 8 Father and Son Issues

_**July 4, 1959**_

To the people of Canada's far north, the Fourth of July is just another day. To Veronica it was a day of walking around the city, seeing banners of the ole' red, white and blue, a parade, hot dogs and a parade. People were enjoying the post-World War Two economic boom still. 

Instead of waiting on festive fireworks to start, Veronica stood on the back porch and watched a moose walk along the center street of Spencer Falls. It didn't seem a bit perturbed to be moseying through people's front yards or across the street from the general store. Veronica watched it until it walked out of sight, into the sunset further west. She would always remember the warm, brown color of it's eyes as it looked directly at her. Even standing on the porch, the moose could look over her head and into the house.

"Hey, were you watching Elmer?" Robert asked after the moose had disappeared into the distance.

"What?" The young woman jerked, startled.

"I'm sorry, I didn't intend to scare you. I was just asking if you were watching Elmer, our resident moose?" His blue eyes danced as he stepped onto the porch.

"You have a name for him?" She tilted her head to the right, looking up at him. Robert's eyes gazed at her full, kissable lips, then at her loosely curling hair. His hand reached out to touch those soft locks. Thinking of her uncle seated just meters away, he stopped himself.

"Yes, Elmer walks through Spencer Falls on a regular basis. People stare out their windows at him and leave him alone. The old guy doesn't bother anyone."

"Have a seat on the swing." Veronica offered, pulling up a ladder back chair. She could see her aunt peeking through the white curtains at them and waved to her. The curtains snapped shut.

"I'd rather take a walk, I can show you a few of the constellations." Robert offered, desperately wanting to get away from his boss and Aunt Edna.

"Okay, just a short stroll, alright?" The young woman winked at him and smiled.

"Just down to the edge of the village, I promise." Robert spoke loud enough to be heard through the front screen door. He offered her his arm, like a gentleman. Gently, Veronica laid her hand on his forearm. It was solid and comforting feeling his hand over hers as they walked down the steps.

At the end of the village stood a cluster of ancient pine trees. They grew over a hundred feet tall and had seen more time pass behind them than they would see to come. Robert lead Veronica there, neither of them speaking. The sky above was a dark blanket someone had tossed diamonds onto.

"I love to come out here and watch the sunsets sometimes." Robert leaned against one of the ancient trees. In the distance they heard a wolf howl. Others answered, a chorus of vowels strung out in a mournful call. Veronica leaned in closer, shivering at the sound. Robert put his arm around her shoulder as she stood beside him against the tree.

"They sound so sad." She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"The Inuit have a story for every animal out here, especially wolves." He pulled Veronica closer, sliding her hand to his free one.

"I've enjoyed listening to all your stories. There's nothing like them in any book I've ever read." And she'd read a humdinger lot of books.

"Thank you kindly. I've enjoyed telling the stories." Veronica turned to look up at him, a smile on her oval face. She leaned against Robert, her head tilted back to see his face in the moonlight.

"Tell me you'll kiss me." She nearly whispered as she looked up at him.

"I can show you." He offered, leaning down, capturing her lips softly at first. A light breeze blew against the pine trees, bringing their aroma down to the kissing couple. It sent a chill up Veronica's frame.

"Here, take my jacket." Robert shrugged out of the light jacket he wore. With a smile, Veronica slid into it. It smelled like him. She fingered the sturdy material, his left over body warmth warming her.

"We'd better be getting back, Uncle Luke will be cross with you." Veronica suggested, taking Robert's hand and winding her fingers with his.

"Yeah, we ought to get back." The thought of a week cleaning the dog kennels crossed the young officer's mind. Together they walked the length of the village. Veronica gave Robert back his jacket as he stood on the porch. They hesitated to say anything to each other for fear of being overheard. Instead, Veronica waved, blowing Robert a kiss when he turned back along the walk way. She saw the big, dopey smile spread across his face.

_**At the Consulate … **_

__Ray showed up at the Canadian Consulate promptly at eight-thirty, half an hour after he was supposed to meet Fraser for dinner.

"Sorry, I was filing some last minute paperwork. I hope you're ready for some good Mexican food, prepared by professional Mexicans." Ray opened the door to the GTO and let the jeans clad Canadian and his wolf inside.

"Ray, I don't think there is such a thing as 'Professional Mexicans', and that isn't very ethnically sensitive on your part." Fraser gently chastised as he closed the door behind Dief.

"Sure there is, they use being Mexican as a profession, cooking and flirting with fat, American housewives. And as for the political correctness, I know you get paid to do it at work, but I got news for ya, Fraser, you're off duty." The blonde detective shrugged as the American muscle car roared to life. Ray and Fraser spent the next three blocks arguing about political correctness, eventually, somehow, arguing about Star Trek Vulcans verses Kryptonians.

"I know, Fraser, but I still don't think the Vulcan neck pinch thingy would work on Superman." They were still arguing as they got out of the car and walked into Vaca Mexicana. The waiter asked them if it was _dos_ seats then showed them to a table in the non-smoking section before slipping them two menus.

"So, what is it that's got you so out of sorts? Would it have anything to do with your dad's mystery girl?" Ray studied him above the edge of the menu.

"I guess I'm just sorting out how I feel about it all, Ray. It all happened the summer before my parents married. I suppose I never thought of my dad as loving anyone before my mother." Fraser sat back against the marigold yellow, leather bench seat, his menu forgotten.

"I met one of my ole man's old flames once. She was a big chested redhead, absolutely nothing like my mother. When I asked him what the attraction was, you know what he said?" Ray waited for Fraser to nod. "He said that he liked her because she made him love my mother more." The detective talked with his hands, not caring about anyone seated nearby. "It took me until I found Stella to realize what he meant." Ray leaned back.

"I see what you mean, Ray." The waiter came asking for their drink orders, then quickly left.

"I bet that post commander was pissed, your dad nosing around his niece." Ray changed the conversation's tack. Fraser looked at him like he'd grown a second head.

"What did you say, Ray, exactly?" The Mountie demanded. Confused, Ray repeated himself.

"Now I know why Buck won't talk. I'm sorry, Ray, but I have to go. A rain check perhaps?" Fraser asked apologetically.

"Yeah, sure. Where are you going?" The detective asked, standing up to follow the Mountie.

"Back to the consulate, there's someone I need to talk to." Fraser grabbed his hat and laid down an American five dollar bill for their iced teas.

"I'll drive." Ray didn't like letting him walk when Ben was so anxious.

"Thank you kindly, Ray." The Mountie took off toward the parking lot, leaving Ray and Dief behind.

_**July 18, 1959**_

The letters between Robert and Veronica were a daily exchange. It started out innocently, eventually moving into the 'I can't wait to kiss you again' stage. Veronica read two dozen books, often loaning the books she'd brought with her to Robert. He too read every word, wanting to know what she knew, taking comfort in the fact that she'd read the exact same words.

By the middle of July they'd exchanged those three little words. That was one letter Veronica put safely away. Robert had written her, telling her he'd contacted his parents, asking what they thought of his marrying an American. Sight unseen, they disapproved. He was disappointed, to say the least. The letter Veronica received afterward shocked her. 

_ Dear Veronica's_

_ I write you now as I sit waiting for a grizzly bear to find something else to be interested in. It's been four hours so far. Boredom isn't why I'm writing. This letter is to express how much I love you and the thoughts I've been pondering. Run away with me, Veronica. Let's get married. Say yes and we can have a lifetime like the last month and a half. I love you, Veronica. Always my heart, ~Robert._

Veronica had to read the letter three times to make sure it said what it said. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. He'd never said anything about a grizzly bear, or marriage, or anything past September. She didn't think he was that serious about her. It felt wrong. Veronica couldn't imagine living without Robert, but it still felt wrong.

"Oh, Robert, what are you doing?" She asked aloud as she tucked the letter inside the envelope again. Veronica hit the letter in her suitcase with the others and her journal. She could only imagine what her uncle would have to say if they came across the letters. Luke Fitzgerald was one of the strictest officers in the RCMP, he had a reputation for it.

_**At the Consulate … **_

A single light on Meg's desk burned the midnight oil as she tried to catch up on paperwork she'd ditched to help Fraser. The only time she could get anything done was when he was out. Usually when he was out he was doing something to cause her more paperwork. It was a viscous cycle. Meg couldn't imagine it any other way.

"Dief, I waited fifteen minutes for you to finish outside." Fraser's voice startled Meg out of her paperwork haze. She pulled her prescription eye glasses off and shoved them in a drawer. Through the open door she could see him strolling down the hallway past her. The sight of him in a pair of Wranglers made Meg's temperature rise ten degrees. The white, wolf-dog trotted into Fraser's office for the night.

"Oh, Inspector Thatcher, I wasn't aware you were here this evening." Fraser back tracked, his Stetson in his hand.

"Just tying up a few loose ends." Inspector Thatcher answered, not looking up from the file on her desk. Fraser took a timid step into the office, he hated to interrupt her but he had to tell someone.

"Sir, if I may, I know why Buck Frobisher is hesitant to discuss my father's conduct the summer of 1959." When her gaze lifted suddenly Fraser knew she was intrigued.

"Continue." Meg answered noncommittally. Her heart thudded out of control as she tried to appear calm and wait.

"The post commander, Fitzgerald, must have found out about his niece and my father. Fitzgerald likely threatened my father's career. There should be something in the file, a letter of reprimand." Ben's mind still raced. He'd told Ray he'd let him know what he found.

Meg took a deep breath. She didn't want the mystery to be over so soon, but she couldn't keep the files a secret anymore.

"Constable, these arrived today." Meg pushed the two file folders toward Fraser, each of them a dozen centimeters thick. She watched as Fraser picked up his father's file. He'd never actually sat down and read the whole thing before.

"Your answers are most likely in these files, Constable Fraser." Ben detected a note of sadness or was it tiredness? He had to look at her to tell. Meg's soulful brown eyes had lost some of the spark Ben had noticed when they'd begun the search. He was nearly as sad to see it over as she was.

"I'll read my father's file tonight." Ben stood up to take his leave. It wasn't consulate business so he didn't feel the need for Thatcher to dismiss him before tuning to leave.

"I can take Fitzgerald's then." Meg began collecting the files she'd been working on and laying them aside.

"Are you certain, Sir, it's getting late?" Fraser asked, turning back around.

"No, Constable, I don't know my own mind." Meg ordered him, "Sit." The Mountie nodded, part of him glad to spend the evening with her, even if it was seated a meter across from each other, noses planted in dusty files.

"I'm hungry, beef or chicken?" Meg asked, picking up the phone and dialing the Chinese restaurant a few blocks over.

"Either is fine, Sir." Ben nearly choked on his surprise, dinner with her two nights in quick succession. She shot him a withering glance.

"I'll start the coffee." Ben volunteered. Meg only nodded as she began ordering.

Twenty minutes later Ben met the delivery guy at the door, payment and a tip in hand before Meg could make it around her desk. She was still standing in the middle of the office when Fraser brought two plastic bags full of food back.

"Ah, a late dinner." She took one of the bags from him, the dim light and her lack of prescription glasses blurring Ben's face. Meg had to strain to see what color his eyes were. After a long moment, she reclaimed her seat and began opening the containers and portioning out chicken and crab Rangoon for them.

"I found a letter your father wrote to Veronica in Fitzgerald's file." Meg handed him the handwritten missive. His eyes scanned the familiar writing twice.

"My word, he was planning to elope with her, despite my grandparents' protests as well as the Fitzgeralds'." Ben felt like someone had knocked the wind out of him.

"I can see why Sergeant Frobisher wouldn't want to say anything." Meg watched Ben as he stared out into space for a moment. She didn't know the deja vu he felt or the new spin it put on his world.

"I'll have to call Buck tomorrow, to explain." Ben thought to himself.

"What stopped the elopement?" Meg wondered aloud.

"It doesn't say." The Mountie stood up, staring into the empty fireplace a few paces from Inspector Thatcher's desk.

"I should have waited until the morning to give these to you, Constable Fraser." Meg began putting Fitzgerald's file back together.

"No, tonight was fine. I wouldn't have slept anyway wondering." Fraser turned back to her, much more composed.

Meg still felt like a heel for giving them to him at all. She desperately wanted to comfort him somehow, to tell him she was there if he wanted to talk, if he needed a friend. The old walls felt like a vice around her heart as she saw the confusion in Ben's eyes.

"Is there anything else in the file, Sir?" That hateful, formal title brought Meg back to the task at hand. She began rummaging in the file folder.

"Yes, here's another letter, from Veronica." Meg handed him the page.

_**September 3, 1959**_

_Dear Robert,_

_ It breaks my heart that I'm leaving in the morning for Chicago. This summer has been the best of my life but I have to go. I've made a promise to someone else and so have you. I will always love you, Robert. I wish I could run away with you like you asked me to in July. Running away would be a disaster for both of us, disappointing our parents, breaking Alfred and Caroline's hearts, not to mention Uncle Luke would put you in prison when he found us. I can't bear to see you locked away. You've worked too hard to be a good RCMP officer. You'll do the world more good without me._

_ Please tell Buck good-bye for me. He's been a dear friend to me and to you. I wish you and Caroline the best. _

_All my love,_

_XoXo Veronica._

Ben read the letter aloud, his powerful voice struggling not to crack. He saw tear stains on the stiff paper near the corner. Some of the handwriting was sloppy and smudged. His hand shook slightly as he finished the last sentence. Without thinking, Ben handed his boss lady back the letter and sat back down.

"Your father did do the world good, Constable Fraser." It was the most professional comfort Meg could muster.

"His duty robbed him of his happiness." Ben's voice sounded harsh and angry. He stood again, ready to leave the office.

"Don't let history repeat itself, Son." Bob Fraser met his son at the door. The old Mountie shook his head as their gaze met. Ben pushed on through.

"I don't know why you're so stubborn, Benton, you were willing to jump onto a moving train with a wanted felon for Pete's sake." Bob Fraser yelled after the younger man.

Meg stood at the door watching Fraser stalk down the hall silently. She listened as he closed the door firmly. Anger crackled the air in his wake. The lady Mountie knew all too well what he'd been talking about when he'd accused duty of stealing happiness. Wasn't she guilty of the same thing? Tired, Meg cleaned up the Chinese leftovers and the files before turning out the light and leaving for her apartment. Her empty apartment, she told herself. What she really wanted to do was kick off her Gucci heels and walk into Fraser's office to tell him how she felt. She secretly wanted him to flirt with her again. She wanted to sit beside him and put her arm around his shoulder.

Bob Fraser's ghost followed Ben into his office, just as he knew he would. The old man was nothing if not persistent. Ben rubbed both hands over his face as if he could rid himself of the last two weeks.

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to elope with Veronica, Dad?" Ben demanded, his voice quiet, which was worse than a raised one. Ben stood in the middle of the office, his hands on his hips, looking down at the floor.

"I thought you'd take it the wrong way, Son." The old Mountie's excuse sounded feeble event to him.

"Just when I thought I was getting to know you, Dad. You should have been honest with me." Ben nearly growled.

Diefenbaker sat between the Mounties, his eyes going from one to the other as if watching a tennis match. The wolf-dog could sense the anger between them more than hear it. Dief had rarely seen his human this angry before, especially at the old Mountie.

"A man is entitled to his mistakes, Benton. You've made your fair share." Bob Fraser's downcast gaze raised. "That's why this angers you so much, this reminds you of Victoria."

"Leave her out of this, Dad. It has nothing to do with her." Benton turned on his father.

"Yes, it does. You want to be angry with me for something you're guilty of yourself, because you can't be angry at yourself any more. I'm just a new target." Bob Fraser saw the pain and hurt in his son's face as their eyes met. The old man wished he could make Ben feel better, like when he was a little boy and he could pick him up and pat him on the back after he'd fallen on his bike.

"Before you get angry at me, Benton, ask yourself if there's actually anything to be angry about." Bob Fraser's voice was gentle. For a long moment both Mounties stood looking at each other. Bob Fraser walked to the closet and disappeared through the door, leaving Ben alone with his thoughts.

_**July 31, 1959**_

Veronica didn't know what to tell Robert about eloping with him. She didn't tell him anything. The day after he sent her the letter asking he drew the short straw and was sent out to trail a miner who'd taken off with an entire payroll. The assignment took him away for the next two weeks. As much as she'd thought about it, dreamed about marrying him, she still didn't feel it was right, so she didn't tell him anything.

"Have you finished the last book I loaned you before I left?" She knew what he wanted when he asked her that question. Her heart leapt in her chest.

"No, let's take a walk and talk about it." Veronica smiled sweetly as she took his arm and led him off the porch that evening after dinner. A light breeze blew as the pair walked the length of the village, discussing _Robinson Crusoe_. No one suspected they were headed out to the pines for privacy.

"So, are you going to leave with me, Veronica?" The young officer asked as soon as they were out of sight of the village. She looked up at him, a frown pulling her brows together.

"Are you certain you want to run away, Robert, you have a good life ahead of you in the RCMP." She pointed out.

"Running away is the only way your uncle would allow such a thing. We could be legally married and in a few months return. They couldn't say anything then." Robert tried to reason with her. He just wanted to hold her and kiss her every day for the rest of his life.

"What about Caroline, what about your parents?" Veronica persisted, trying to get him to see reason.

"Caroline has a dozen, young men chasing her. She'll find someone she likes just as well in a month or two. My parents, they just don't know you, they'll come to accept you, love you as I do." He took her hands and held them in his, kissing the finger tips softly.

"You're crazy, you know that?" The young woman shook her head as she looked up into his blue eyes. It was such a rash, impulsive, immature thing to do. Yet it was so tempting.

"I know I'm crazy about you." He laughed, drawing her against him, warming her against the evening chill.


	9. Chapter 9 The Results

_**At the Consulate … **_

Ben sat on his cot until he lost track of time. Diefenbaker snored loudly on his dog bed in the corner. The Mountie sat there wondering why his father had to compare his situation to Victoria. Was he right? Was there enough similarity between the situations to cause this anger, this resentment? Fraser didn't understand, neither himself nor his father. Yes, he had been willing to give the RCMP up for Victoria. Yes, he had almost ruined his career in pursuit of a woman he thought he loved. Yes, there was someone he cared for very much afterward. Ben didn't know if that made him angrier at himself or his father. He was still trying to figure it out when he heard Inspector Thatcher's heels on the floor in the hall. The sound was drawing nearer.

"Constable Fraser, I came," Her voice stalled, "You walked out of my office so quickly." Meg didn't know what she wanted to say, what her walls would allow her to say to him.

Ben threw open the door. He didn't exactly want to see her just then, but it wasn't lost on him that she had stopped by to check on him. "Inspector Thatcher, is there something else?" Ben could have kicked himself for saying that. She looked a little wounded.

"I'm leaving for the evening, Constable. I'll lock up on my way out." She stepped back, running a strand of her dark bob behind her ear.

"Inspector Thatcher, thank you." Ben tried to say something more, but what?

"For what?" Meg shrugged, confused.

"Thank you kindly for everything." He hoped she read between the lines; his thanks and his apology.

"If there's anything else I can do, Constable, ask." It sounded almost like an order. Ben was glad to hear it. "Good evening." Meg turned and walked back down the hall and out the front door. Ben watched her walk away, wondering how many more times she would walk back inside.

_**August 20, 1959**_

"I know where it is, Edna, I'll get it." Luke took the stairs two at a time, whistling. Tapping on the bedroom door, he stepped through after a moment. The room was neat and tidy, completely unlike the way Landon usually left it. The Mountie surveyed the space for a moment, taking in the cast iron bed stead, the wooden chest of drawers and the quilt on the bed Edna had made for Landon as a boy.

"Now where is that photo album?" Luke opened the closet door, expecting to see it neat and clean as well. Veronica's suitcase fell out at his feet. Everything inside went flying across the hardwood floor. Books and papers scattered like dust in the wind. He muttered to himself about women and their cubby holes. Picking up the papers, he saw familiar handwriting on one.

_**August 21, 1959**_

_ Dear Veronica,_

_ I've been waiting all week to see you. It gets harder every night to sleep for thinking of you and your kisses. I dread the day you have to leave for Chicago. I keep asking you to run away with me and you keep putting me off. Veronica, our time is running out. When will you see that I love you and I don't care what either of our families have to say? As vehemently as I feel for you, I know you feel the same for me. I see it in your blue eyes, those blue eyes I could get lost in forever. How am I supposed to go on without you in my life everyday? I think of separation and my heart aches. Don't make me suffer a lifetime without you. My heart won't bear it. Love~ Robert._

Luke couldn't believe his eyes when he read the letter. He never suspected one of his best officers would be willing to turn his back on the RCMP. He also never suspected Robert would disgrace his niece in such a way as asking her to elope. How could she turn her back on her family and her fiancee?

After gathering the letters, Luke charged downstairs. His boots hit the stairs like sledgehammers as he tore into the living room.

"Veronica, what have you and Robert Fraser been doing?" The man's loud voice thundered in the living room as he confronted the girl he thought of as a daughter.

"I don't know what you mean, Uncle Luke." She stood up from the couch, confused until she saw the letters in his hand. "You were going through my things?" Veronica tried to snatch them but she was too short and too late.

"Your suitcase fell onto the floor and scattered these. Now, I asked you, what have you and Robert Fraser been up to? I thought you and Alfred were gettting married when you got back to Chicago." Luke demanded, crumpling the letters.

"I haven't decided. I don't love Alfred, marrying him would be wrong." Veronica tried to explain calmly, desperately wishing her uncle hadn't found the letters.

"Veronica Fitzgerald, I can't believe you would be so selfish as to let Robert Fraser throw away his career to elope with you. He could never get a job, he could never provide for you." Edna joined her husband.

"I can get a job, what's wrong with that? I'm as good as any man at any job I'm qualified for." Veronica squared her shoulders, angry to hear the same arguments her parents had been using on her since she was a teenager.

"It's a man's job to support his family. Robert has a good career ahead of him. There's talk of a promotion from Ottawa. You would let him throw that away, you selfish, thoughtless girl." Luke threw the letters to the floor. "I forbid you to see each other again. I won't have you acting like a slut in this house." Luke's voice came out in a low growl as he turned his back on Veronica.

"Uncle Luke!" Veronica whimpered as she sank onto the couch.

"It won't do you any good, Veronica, you've made your bed, now you have to lie in it. You've cheated on Alfred, be glad that your uncle doesn't call him and tell him of what you've done." Edna turned and walked out onto the front porch, letting the screen door slam behind her. Veronica sat on the couch, sobbing. She gathered the letters she'd cherished for the last several weeks, wondering how she could have gotten in so much trouble.

"Oh, Robert, what have we done?" She sobbed as she clutched the pages to her chest.

Still riled, Luke Fitzgerald walked into his office, past the officer on duty, and pulled Robert Fraser's file out of the desk drawer.

"Gerald, go find Robert Fraser, tell him I want to talk to him." Fitzgerald shouted through the wall.

"Yes, Sir." Came the young officer's reply. Fitzgerald could almost hear the young man salute before he walked out the front door.

Twenty minutes later Robert Fraser walked into the office, his jaw working with frustration. He'd already heard what Luke had told Veronica. The hatred in the young officer's eyes didn't affect the commander at all.

"Constable Robert Fraser, this is your file. So far it reads of an officer above reproach. Just a little while ago I came across letters between you and my niece. She is off-limits from this time forward. I so much as catch you looking cross ways at each others and you'll be transferred somewhere so close to Russia you'd better start learning the language now. Do you understand me?" Luke leaned his fists on the desk, his bulk carried in his shoulders.

"Yes, Sir." Robert stared at the bulletin board behind the desk.

"Don't think of doing something stupid, like taking Veronica and running away. I will hunt you down myself. I won't have you disgracing my family, sullying my niece's reputation." Fitzgerald said before dismissing the young man. Robert turned on his boot heel and left the office. He was so angry steam could have shot out of his ears. Buck Frobisher walked toward him down the street, a bright smile on his usually sunny features.

"Hey, Bob, how are you today?" One hateful glare and the big Mountie knew the answer to his question. Robert kept on walking down the muddy street without stopping or talking.

"Hey, hold up, Bob, what's going on, what's wrong?" Buck clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder and spun him around in his tracks.

"Fitzgerald found out about me and Veronica. He's forbidden us to see each other." It was all Robert could get out without cursing.

"Whoa, I didn't know the two of you were that serious." Buck shrugged, letting go of Robert's shoulder.

"I asked her to elope with me, to run away." Fury and regret burned like twin infernos in the Mountie.

"Runaway? Robert, that's suicide." Buck's eyes widened in alarm. He never would have suspected his friend of such a thing.

"Buck, I love her, it's the only way. My parents won't hear of it, neither will her uncle and aunt." Robert shrugged.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Buck offered, not really sure of what to do.

"No, Buck, but thank you." Robert shook his head, he didn't see a way out of the hole he was in.

_**At the Consulate … **_

The chilly, Chicago weather had turned to sunshine. Ben had tried to talk to Bernadette Mason but she proved evasive. He didn't know what he would say if he had gotten in contact with her. Still, he was concerned for her. Inspector Thatcher hadn't said a word about the investigation, choosing instead to go back to business as usual between them. Ben missed having something to share with her. He also missed General Tso's chicken for a midnight snack with her.

Seated in his closet of an office, Fraser clicked away at the computer keyboard, taking his frustrations out on his weekly report. He could have filled it out blindfolded. The telephone ringing was a welcome distraction.

"Constable Fraser, may I see you in my office, as soon as possible?" Inspector Thatcher's voice was neutral, too much so. Ben knew she had something she wanted to talk about.

"Certainly, Sir, I'll be there momentarily." He hung the phone up and unfolded himself from behind the cramped desk. Diefenbaker lifted his head off the carpet, wondering where his human was going.

"Wish me luck." Ben said, straightening his lanyard and running his fingers through his short, dark hair. Dief gave him a grin before he walked out the door.

"You asked to see me, Sir?" Fraser asked, coming to stand a few feet away from the inspector's desk.

"This came in the mail for you a moment ago." Meg handed him a registered letter laying on her desk. The return address was the laboratory where Fraser and Bernadette had had their blood work done.

"The lab results, I assume." Suddenly Ben didn't want to open them. He didn't want to know. Standing in her office, looking at the letter, the Mountie went pale.

"I'll open it if you'd like, Constable Fraser." Meg offered, a grim look on her face. She'd never seen Fraser act like this.

"Yes, thank you." He handed her back the envelope.

"Have a seat, Constable Fraser." Meg rounded her desk and withdrew her letter opener from the top drawer. With a swift, upward motion, she slit the envelope and took the neatly typed letter out. Squinting, Meg read the results aloud. Most of it was a bunch of jargon she only vaguely understood.

"Bernadette Mason is _not_ your half sister, Fraser." Meg summed up the jargon as she handed him the paper.

He met her gaze, unsure of how exactly to react. Ben wasn't sure if he was relieved or saddened.

"I should telephone Buck Frobisher, let him know the results." The Mountie folded the paper and shoved it back in the envelope.

"Are you alright, Constable Fraser, you seem shaken." Meg leaned forward to see him better.

"I'm fine, thank you for asking." Ben collected himself, pasting a polite smile on his features. Meg wasn't convinced.

"You've handled this whole matter admirably, Constable Fraser. I'm not sure I'd have dealt with it all as well as you have." She measured her words, wishing she could say what she really felt and thought.

"You're being gracious, Inspector." Ben toyed with the letter, staring at his boots for a moment before meeting Meg's gaze. He saw the sincerity in her eyes.

"No, Constable, I've seen how difficult this has been for you. A lesser man would have become angry or resentful." Meg couldn't believe she'd told Fraser she'd seen his vulnerability. He swallowed, uncomfortable with her honesty. She wished she could take her words back, they only distanced him further from her.

"If there isn't anything else, Sir, I have paperwork to attend to." Fraser stood up to leave, wishing he could fly away like a bird on the wind.

"Dismissed, Constable." Meg let him go. She hated herself for even speaking.


	10. Chapter 10 Mystery Solved

Bernadette saw the message light flashing on her machine. She'd gotten a call from Fraser every day or so since the blood work had been drawn. Part of her wanted to talk to him, to connect with someone who connected with her mother's past. Every time she tried to dial the number she remembered those last, desperate days with her mother.

Veronica had tried to explain that long ago summer to her daughter but Bernadette wouldn't hear of it. Alfred Mason was the only man she wanted to think of her mother as ever loving. He had been Bernadette's whole world and his death had hit her hard. It seemed like her mother was cheating on her father when she wanted to talk about Robert Fraser.

The hospice nurse that stayed with Veronica the last three months had been more willing to listen to the tales the old lady had to tell of a long lost love. Veronica had needed to tell someone about that summer, to sort it out in her own head. She just wished that Bernadette had been the one to listen.

With a sigh, Bernadette hit the play button on the machine to hear Fraser's message.

"Bernadette, this is Benton Fraser. I received the results of the blood work this afternoon. We are of no relation to each other. If you would like to talk I'll be here at the consulate all evening." He sounded different to the woman's ears. She heard a knock at the door as she hung her purse on the coat rack.

"You have a registered letter, Ms. Mason." The mail man handed her the form to sign then the letter.

"Thank you, Larry." Bernadette waved at him as he walked down the sidewalk through the neighborhood. She stood in the door way, looking at the envelope in her hand, already knowing the results. Tears brimmed in her blue eyes. All Bernadette wanted was peace and quiet for a while. First her father dies, then her mother is diagnosed with bone cancer and feels the need to reveal something to her she should have told years before. Looking around the porch, Bernadette saw the ghosts of her family everywhere.

Grabbing her coat and purse, Bernadette walked out of the house she'd lived in since before she could remember. She didn't know where she was going. The sunshine in the city and the feeling that she was the only one being followed by a dark cloud drove her onward. It wasn't until she was standing outside the Canadian Consulate that Bernadette realized she'd been headed here all along.

"Ms. Mason, wait," She heard Fraser's voice from down the street as she turned to leave. "Bernadette, wait." He jogged to catch up with her.

"Constable Fraser, I, ah, I shouldn't have come. I received your message and …" The look on her face spoke volumes.

"Come inside, I'll make you some tea." Ben studied her a moment. She saw the need to help her in his green eyes. None of this was his fault anymore than it was Bernadette's.

"Thank you." She let him usher her into the consulate and back toward his office.

Meg sat at her desk, staring out the door while she was supposed to be working. The scene with Fraser earlier that morning was still haunting her. She wished that she hadn't said anything after he told her she was gracious. When Meg saw Ben escorting a woman down the hall the inspector snapped back to reality.

"I'm glad to see you came here. I was concerned about you." Ben's tone was soothing as he removed his Stetson.

Meg came around her desk, hoping she could catch the Mountie before he had time to get away.

"Constable Fraser," She said briskly.

"Ah, Inspector Thatcher, this is Bernadette Mason." Ben tried to figure out a way to introduce Bernadette more clearly.

"I'm Constable Fraser's superior officer." Meg volunteered, politely shaking the other woman's hand.

"Pleased to meet you." The inevitable, awkward silence fell between the three of them.

"Why don't we have tea in the sitting room. Constable Fraser makes a wonderful, Asian variety, I'm told." The inspector spoke first, taking a handle on the situation.

"Ah, yes, I'll meet you both there in a moment." Ben turned on his heel and left the women to their own devices.

"I hope you don't mind the intrusion, Ms. Mason, but Constable Fraser has apprised me of the connection between your mother and his father." Meg settled herself on the couch near the fireplace in the sitting room.

"I don't mind. I guess working so closely together you and he confide in each other." Bernadette saw the red creep into Meg's cheeks as she squared her shoulders and adjusted her watch.

"Constable Fraser and I have a strictly professional relationship." Meg wanted to melt into the couch cushions and never come back.

"Oh, I'm sorry, he just seems like someone a person could open up to is all." Bernadette shrugged, mildly amused at Meg's reaction.

"Yes, he would seem to be." The inspector said a little wistfully, her gaze drifting to the door Fraser would be coming through any moment.

"Is Constable Fraser anything like his father?" Bernadette asked, trying to change the subject.

"Unfortunately, I never had the honor of meeting Robert Fraser, but from what I've read, he was very much like his son in a lot of ways. Both are very good men, very honorable." Meg smiled tightly. Every time Fraser had been pressed to give account of her leadership he'd had only good to say. Meg couldn't say the same for herself.

"Here we are, camomile tea." Fraser walked in carrying a tray. He'd overheard what Meg had told Bernadette, about him being an honorable man. He felt that tender, aching spot in his chest weaken at her words. There was so much he wanted to tell her.

"Thank you, Constable, I should really be going." Meg stood to leave. It was a family matter, sort of, and that was something to be discussed in private.

"If Benton has told you all about it already, stay, please." Bernadette tucked a strand of her dark waves behind her ear as Fraser rounded the arm chair where she sat to take a seat beside the inspector. Each of them made sure to leave plenty of space between them.

Looking at Fraser, Meg saw him give her an slightly pleading look, asking her to stay. With an almost imperceptible nod, she settled back against the couch cushions.

"I guess I came because this has been overwhelming, all this. I never knew my mother felt that way toward anyone but my father. She never mentioned ever going to Canada." Bernadette felt like she hadn't known her mother at all when she started trying to tell her about the summer of 1959.

"I can empathize with you about that. It wasn't until after my father's death that I learned a vast amount about the man." Fraser began, stirring his tea. He surveyed the room, expecting to see the old Mountie sitting in the other arm chair with his legs crossed. "At first I was angry and hurt that he would keep things from me. Then, I realized that there were things I have done that, should I have children, would be next to impossible for me to explain to them. The pain of our actions lingers long after the wound had knitted together and the scar had begun to fade." Ben's gaze took on that faraway, mysterious glint. Where he was, Meg could only speculate. She did know that he was probably referring back to the incident with Victoria Metcalf. The inspector had read the reports for herself. There was a lot to see between the lines.

"From the letters and Mom's journal, I wish I could have met your father. He seems like he would have been a an interesting man." Bernadette smiled, relieved to have shared her fears with someone else. She felt like she wasn't so alone anymore.

"Dad, he was quite a character." Ben smiled, remembering some of the cases in his father's journals.

"Oh, posh, you make me sound like I was daft. Just wait until someone starts talking about you after you die, then they'll get to tell how you talk to that wolf of yours." Ben looked up from his tea to see his father in his dress reds, hands behind his back, jabbering away. The younger Mountie was glad to see him.

"Well, I've taken enough of your time, Benton, Inspector Thatcher." Bernadette rose to leave, her tea gone.

"Perhaps we could have lunch some time, if you'd like to talk." Ben offered, not entirely sure of how to proceed. He saw his father in the corner, smiling blithely.

"Yeah, maybe. Thank you for letting me bend your ear about all this." Bernadette retrieved her purse from the floor and walked out of the sitting room. Her blue eyes were clearer and she seemed calmer. Ben and Meg rose to escort her to the foyer.

"Have a good afternoon." Fraser wished her as Bernadette waved at them from the sidewalk outside the consulate.

"You two as well." She waved back at them before disappearing into the crowd. Meg and Ben looked at each other for a moment, neither of them saying a word about the meeting.

The sound of boots thumping against the floor from behind broke the pair out of their reverie. Turnbull carried a note, a cheerful, empty expression on his fair features.

"You have a phone message, Sir." He handed the paper to Inspector Thatcher. With a frown she turned from the consulate stoop to return to her duty.

_**Later that evening …**_

Ben sat at his desk, re-reading the letters between his father and Veronica Fitzgerald-Mason. They showed a side to the old man that the younger Mountie had only ever glimpsed. He wondered if his mother had lived, if the relationship between his parents would have given him any insight into how to handle Meg Thatcher. His grandparents had had a long and wonderful marriage, but by the time he came to their care, the fire had settled into a warm and comfortable smolder. They had helped him deal with his introversion and shyness as well as they could. Despite their best efforts, as well as his, Ben had always been one to love from afar.

A tap on the door brought the Mountie back from Spencer Falls to the present. He stood up, opening the door, not entirely surprised that it was Inspector Thatcher. Turnbull's shift had been over for over an hour and the phones were turned to voice mail. There was no one in the consulate to disturb them.

"Inspector Thatcher, I wasn't expecting to see you." Ben stood aside so she could enter his tiny office. His tunic was on a hanger on the back of the door, leaving him in his uniform pants and white undershirt.

"Yes, I came to tell you that I have to send Fitzgerald and your father's files back in the morning, if there's nothing else you need from them." Meg swirled the tassel hanging from her purse strap as she stepped into the tidy area.

"I have no further need of them, Sir, the mystery has been solved." Ben held onto the door knob as she stood looking around his space. Except for the cot in the corner, it didn't look like anyone lived in the prison cell sized space.

"I also came to say, I shouldn't have overstepped my bounds, inserting myself into such a personal quest." Meg hated feeling like she was a character out of _Pride and Prejudice_, tip toeing around feelings all in the guise of propriety and in her case, professionalism. She wondered if it wasn't plain old fear that kept her dancing to this tune.

"I'm glad you did." Ben looked up at her, his chin still pulled down. "I couldn't have done it without your help." The Mountie ran his fingers through his dark hair. He felt vulnerable having her so close without the boundary of his Stetson and tunic to remind him of his duty and responsibilities.

"Somehow, I think I should be thanking you." Meg spoke softly, feeling the line between them blur.

"Take her for coffee or dinner, Son, she's obviously waiting for you to grow a spine and _ask_ her." Bob Fraser's voice came out of the aether somewhere behind Ben as he waited for Meg to leave.

Taking his father's advice for a change, Ben spoke as Meg turned to leave, "Would you join me for coffee somewhere before you head home?" He saw the surprise and pleasure on the inspector's face as she looked back at him.

"Perhaps just this once." Meg let the walls lower for the first time in a long while. It was good to be Meg for a changed and not 'Inspector Thatcher'. Ben grabbed his Stetson and leather jacket.

"Wish me luck." Ben said to the dozing wolf-dog snoring in the corner.

"Good luck, Son." Bob Fraser replied, happy to see his boy doing something productive in his personal life for a change. Ben waved him away and closed the office door. It was going to be a good evening and not even Robert Fraser was going to ruin it.

_**The end**_


End file.
